On A Deeply Personal Level
by Kantata
Summary: They say you can't miss what you never had, but Kate knows differently. Lone Wanderer, Dogmeat and eventually Butch. Fallout 3.
1. Missing Pieces

**Standard Fare:** I don't own the rights to any of the characters or locations in Fallout 3. If I did I would be sleeping on a large pile of money surrounded by many beautiful men, instead of on a rumpled bed with a badly behaved cat.  
Overall story rated M for language and naughty content.

-This is my first upload to FF and I'm pretty excited to be working on it, as I am still madly in love with FO3. More chapters will follow as I complete them. Thanks for reading, here's hoping you enjoy it!-

**Chapter One  
**Missing Pieces

One thing I never lost, no matter how old I got, was this: I was always stunned by meanness. From the time I was five and heard Wally Mack's father tell my father that my mother had done the right thing by dying, right up to half an hour ago when Trinnie had called me a bitch for not buying her a drink. And by this point in my life I'd seen enough meanness that I should have been immune to it.

When I was maybe eight years old I caught Butch DeLoria stealing a box of paperclips out of my father's desk in the Vault's clinic. By that age I knew enough to mostly stay away from Butch. He'd never warmed to my attempts at friendship (I'd once tried unsuccessfully to share a half-eaten sandwich I'd found in my school desk) and he never seemed to want to play with the rest of us. He usually hung out with Wally Mack and Paul Hannon and while _Paul_ was okay Wally was a total jerk. And yeah, over a decade later I'm still using the phrase 'total jerk' to describe him. I guess sometimes you don't get past those childhood labels.

So yeah, the paperclips. I knew he wasn't borrowing them. When people borrowed stuff from my dad they smiled at me and said hello and went straight for what they needed, but Butch didn't know I was there and he was definitely not smiling. He was also definitely not supposed to be in my dad's desk because I knew my dad didn't like Butch one bit.

"What are you doing?" I asked, coming out from behind the spare gurney I'd been playing around. He stood so fast he scraped his forehead on the edge of the drawer. I saw a small box in his hand that he quickly stuck behind his back.

"Nothin', dirt brain. Why are you sneaking around like a ... dirty spying sneak?" Butch's repertoire of put-downs got _much_ more comprehensive when he grew up.

"I'm not sneaking! This is my _dad's_ clinic and he said I can play in his office while he looks at patients." I edged closer to the desk, curiosity warring with caution. "Why are you taking those?"

"Because." That one defiant word spoke volumes about the kid.

"But they're not yours. They're my dad's."

"I know that, doofus. What are you gonna do about it?"

I hadn't really thought that far ahead. Action wasn't my strong suit even back then. Dad always said I could talk the devil into setting himself on fire, and then talk God into putting him out again. It was true that I could talk my way out of just about any situation... with the unalterable exception of Mr. Brotch's surprise tests.

"If you need paperclips I bet my dad would let you have them. He's the nicest man in the whole Vault." If Butch got caught stealing he would get in trouble. I didn't like trouble, not even for people I didn't get along with. And he was one kid who didn't need any more of that in his life. If I could just get him to do the right thing this once...

Instead he made a nasty face. "_My daddy's the nicest man in the whole Vault._ You're such a little baby. Why don't you go cry to your daddy, crybaby?"

I goggled at him. "Why are you being so mean?"

"_Why are you being so mean?"_

I goggled at him some more but kept my mouth shut. This was one of those traps that every kid knew was inescapable once you'd fallen into it. The first person to start repeating what the other said in a smarmy voice usually won. The longer I stood there staring at him the redder his face got and finally he broke.

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"What? Yeah I do!"

"You couldn't hate me. I never did anything bad to you and you can only hate people who did something bad to you."

This logic was infallible as only an eight year old's can be and I wore it like the mantle of a queen. But our subject, far from being grateful for our wisdom, chose instead to assault our person with a flying box of paperclips.

I felt a little like crying as he ran out of the clinic, bothered on a deeply personal level that somebody could _not like me_. Even somebody as bratty and illogical as Butch DeLoria.

And now twelve years later, cleaning the largest of the three focusing lenses of my laser rifle at an out of the way table outside Gary's Galley in Rivet City, I was still faintly bothered by it. And I knew why I was suddenly thinking about it now, of all times.

Six days ago I had rescued everyone in Vault 101 from civil war, and to thank me for my efforts I'd been told to leave and never come back.

_That_ also bothered me on a deeply personal level. I might have been kind of a sensitive girl, but that betrayal would've hurt anyone.

_You saved us,_ Amata had said, her eyes shining with tears and something else. _But you can't stay here. You only saved us from problems that you and your father caused._ Deep in my heart I knew this to be bullshit, a cop-out, stupidly untrue. My palm itched with the desire to slap the sanctimonious shades of her father, the Overseer, right off her face. Six days later and still fuming, wondering what I could have said or done differently so that the huge door of Vault 101 might not have sealed me outside for good.

It wasn't that I wanted to go back and live there again. I couldn't possibly even if I'd wanted to. But if Amata wanted to start connecting with the outside world, trading, hunting, exploring, then they needed the help of somebody who'd done it. Somebody who spoke their language and also spoke the language of the Wastes. That somebody was _me_, dammit, and instead of taking the hand I'd offered them, they spit on it and slammed the door in my face. _The Muddy Rudder. That's where I should be sitting right now, face down in a puddle of irradiated vodka._ But the Muddy Rudder was Trinnie's haunt and I didn't really feel like being anywhere near her because she'd called me a _bitch_ and I _wasn't_ and _dammit Kate, you're whining again._

People were mean. That was just the way things were. It didn't _have_ to be that way but it was and that was that. I wasn't mean. But a lot of raiders and slavers and assorted Wasteland assholes were dead and I wasn't, which meant that being mean didn't put you on top of the food chain by default. This, however, was cold comfort for somebody whose father... whose precious, beloved father...

I missed him bitterly. Meanness had a way of striking down those who didn't believe in it, and dad had been sure that his vision would protect him until he could see it through to completion. After all, who could _possibly_ want to stand in the way of free, clean water for the whole Capital Wasteland?

_Fucking Enclave._ A little too viciously, I slammed the focusing lens back into place and began screwing the housing plates back on.

_I miss Butch_.

A tiny screw dropped from my fingers and rolled down between two floor plates where it was likely to remain forever. Just as Butch was likely to remain down in Vault 101 forever. Now that the door had been shut again and Amata was busy _restoring order_ I had a hard time believing they would ever open again. After enough time had passed and things calmed down, it would be _let's not ruin things by opening that door back up_. I fished a spare screw out of a pocket. Amata had been my best friend for a lot of years but I knew she was her father's daughter. She could talk about trading and forging new relationships all she wanted, but at heart she liked order and stability. I could easily see her forgetting her promise to open the Vault up once the aftermath of the crisis had settled. Rocking the boat was not her way.

_Not like it was Butch's._

God _dammit_. Another screw consigned to the void. I bit my lower lip fiercely and concentrated on the second last tiny screw I owned, knowing I would have to hit up Seagrave in the morning to see if he had any. If not I would have to hope Flak had a busted old laser rifle that didn't cost too much so I could strip it for parts. It was almost impossible to find pieces that small amongst general junk.

_Good thing Butch misplaced that switchblade of his._

My hand was shaking on the final turn of the screwdriver and I hastily rolled and stowed my tools. Without a backward glance I fled the Marketplace and slipped into my hotel room where I could weep for a while over echoes of my father, and echoes of the boy whose missing switchblade lived on in the BB gun stowed beneath my bed in Megaton.


	2. Cooties

**Chapter Two  
**Cooties

If there was one thing I'd been sure of down there in the Vault, it was that I had not been born there. And I was sure I hadn't precisely because of the fact that everyone insisted I _had_. Nobody made a point of mentioning that Freddy Gomez or Elsie MacMillan had been born here, like their parents, and their parents' parents, and so on. Only me. A naturally inquisitive kid like myself therefore decided that there was more to the story.

When all I found was holes and barriers and a complete lack of records, that pretty much answered my question. But it raised about a dozen others. And no matter how much charm I poured on and how carefully and eloquently I phrased my questions, I couldn't get dad to tell me so much as three words of the truth. It was as if the subject didn't exist for him. He never outright lied to me, but I got a lot of _Honey, you know the answer to that. The Vault door is sealed shut. The Overseer doesn't like people asking questions like that. _And _Sweetie, you're a smart girl. Why don't you focus your attention on something useful, like your algebra homework?_ Ugh, I hated algebra.

So now I was armed with the knowledge that I was from _up there_ and no one else - except dad - shared these origins. After that the Vault suddenly felt like what it was: a Vault. An underground container, a small hermetically sealed portion of the greater whole. And oh... I wanted so badly to see what was _up there_.

The world was so big! How could I spend my life down here seeing none of it? What did the air taste like outside? Were the people friendly? What kind of food did they have? What did their cities look like? Did they have dogs? I had read about dogs in a lot of the old textbooks; 'man's best friend' they were called. Amata was my best friend but I really wished I had a dog. Somebody protective and fierce and fast and friendly, just for me.

For a long time there hadn't been anybody I could talk to about my burning desire for exploration. Once I'd walked into my dad's room to ask him about the outside world, wanting to know if there were cars that worked like the ones in the old picture books, but the look on his face made the question seem small and silly as soon as it had left my lips.

"Sweetheart..." His voice was so soft I could only just hear him. "Come here." I went to him and he pulled me into his lap like I was still a little girl even though I was practically a grown-up at twelve years old. With his bearded chin resting on my head and his warm arms - encased in the sleeves of his perpetual lab coat - wrapped around me, he spoke. "You want to know everything about everything. There isn't an answer that you don't have a question for. And I want you to stay that way forever. Life is full of mysteries and wonder and you should be right in the middle of it. But... I can't answer questions like that. Not about the world outside this Vault." For the first time he said something that became sort of a catch phrase with him. "This Vault... it's not perfect. But it's home. Your mother wanted you to be safe and happy and you'll have that life down here."

Somehow my curiosity was hurting him in a way I didn't understand, but if it caused him pain I didn't need to know why. I only needed to stop doing it.

"Okay dad," I whispered. "Can I just ask one more thing? I promise I won't ask it again."

A sigh rumbled out of him. "Yes, honey."

"_Is_ there a world up there?"

"Yes, honey. There is a world up there."

Though I kept my promise and never brought up the subject of life outside the Vault again, his answer was enough to keep that spark of hope and curiosity and the spirit of exploration alive in me through all the dim years we spent down there.

And as fate would have it, I wasn't the only one with a burning desire to go topside. I struck a secret camraderie with - of _all_people - the boy who punched me because I tried to share a sweet roll with him.

It looked, I thought as I pulled on my well-worn leather boots, like I was going to spend another day reminiscing about that stupid Vault. And stupid Butch. In a way it was better than reminiscing about my dad. He was only three weeks gone and the hurt was so bright, so fresh and piercing, that I shied away from it as I would shy away from the point of a knife. Biting down on my lip quickly to take my thoughts away from that direction, I toed open the half-sized refrigerator in the corner of my hotel room and pulled out two bottles of purified water. One for me and one for my constant companion, who was currently gnawing on something indescribable up on my _bed_ oh _gross_...

"Dogmeat! Get off there!" I waved my hands at him and he took a moment to grin before slinking off the bed with his treasure and retreating to a corner. I decided not to look too closely at the smudges on my blanket. "Yeah, it's past time for breakfast, I get that. You want some leftover mirelurk?" Without waiting for a response I set a dish of meat chunks on the floor for him and topped up his water bowl. Rivet City's water supply wasn't great. They hadn't managed to get a water purifier into working shape that was big enough to handle the needs of the whole community. And since I had sort of a working arrangement with Vera that I would get this hotel room as mine to use whenever I needed it as long as I paid her steadily, I kept a pretty heavy supply of purified water locked in the fridge. I guess it was sort of greedy of me not to be sharing it but honestly, there wasn't enough to give more than two bottles to every person on the ship. And I needed it more. I might've been a goody two-shoes but I was a _practical_ good two-shoes. I wouldn't be able to do any good deeds if I was laid out with radiation poisoning from sucking back dirty water every time I was hurt out there.

Besides, I was pretty sure I'd found a very small purifier unit when I was scavenging through another Vault about a month ago. 106, I think it had been. It'd taken me this long to find two fission batteries of precisely the right size to make it work, and now all I needed was a drum or a tub or something big enough to collect water once I started running it through the unit. Something that didn't leak, preferably, and that was a snag I hadn't fixed yet. _Everything_ leaked on this boat.

"Eat up, boy. We're heading into the bow section today and you're on bear trap duty." Dogmeat didn't look up or laugh at my dumb joke or do anything a human friend might have. I loved him to pieces and I probably would have died to save him... but sometimes I really missed having someone to talk to. If _only_Ellen DeLoria hadn't gotten cornered like she did on my way out of the Vault, and if _only_ she hadn't been a lousy drunk who gave just enough love and attention to her son to make him keep coming back to take care of her before she went on another bender and did her best to destroy his self-esteem again.

The water slid down my throat, blessedly cool and clean, and I tucked the empty bottle carefully into a footlocker I kept behind the door for refilling. Yep, it was definitely time for a tub-run. Everybody said the bow section of the ship was full of stuff waiting to be scavenged, but the mirelurks kept most of the population from making any trips there. And while I still preferred talk to action, you couldn't reason with a half-man half-crab half-what-the-hell. And I was, I admitted to myself, a really great shot with a laser beam. Had to be with mirelurks; the face was the only unarmoured part of them and it was an unfortunately small target. I just wasn't accurate enough with a firearm and bullets and recoil.

I could've tried to slip past them unnoticed. I'd been saving a few Stealth Boys for a bad situation. But then I'd have to leave Dogmeat with Flak and if something went wrong with the 'lurks I'd be out of backup. The mutt wasn't subtle in the least, but he had a pair of jaws on him.

There was one little ritual I had to complete before I headed out. I liked to pretend I did it for luck, but the real reason I did it was that...

_Dammit. I miss Butch._

I kept a very small case tucked at the bottom of my pack. It was wood, old, lined with tattered green felt, and it smelled like my dad. The most important things I owned were kept inside along with a small slip of paper on which I'd written my identity and what to do with my stuff if I should die. Assuming the person who found me wasn't of a mind to simply make off with all of my possessions.

But on top of all that was a carefully folded sheet of paper, the corners soft and worn. I took it out and opened it up on the table and simply looked at it.

It was a pencil map of Vault 101, every room and every corridor marked, all the little details like toilets and doors and ventilation panels marked with care. Even the lower levels of the reactor and the unused portions of the living space were included. Even the _Overseer's_ _office_. It wasn't a professional map and it wasn't perfect but it was made carefully. And down in the very bottom right hand corner it was marked 'B.D'.

I smiled at the devil horns and goatee that had been added to the big O in 'Overseer', and the little S-shaped snake drawn on the DeLorias' quarters. Butch knew how to leave his mark, that was for sure. Didn't need his initials to know who had made this.

_And he made it for me_. Because I had made him a copy of a scouting report I found on Amata's father's private terminal along with an atrocious drawing of a giant ant. As far as I was aware not even Amata knew just how much sneaking around I'd done in that Vault. It was the only way I knew how to go exploring. But Butch had definitely outdone me in that area.

I think I was thirteen when he started calling me lab rat in the halls. Well, him and Wally Mack and Paul Hannon. The Tunnel Snakes. Even now I had to grin at that ridiculous name. They'd started wearing grease in their hair and somewhere they'd gotten hold of these leather jackets that were _way_ too big for any of them and the sleeves hung past their _knees_.

It really wasn't Butch who started picking on me. It was Wally. That kid... I dunno. There was something wrong with his whole family. A more determined clan of assholes I'd never met. Even I didn't bother trying to be nice to them after a while. I just avoided them. Susie was a class-A bitch, Wally was deliberately cruel, and their older brother, well... Let's just say there's a special place in hell for Officer Mack and while I'm not proud of it, I sent him there.

I was excitedly telling Amata all about this book I read on black holes and neutron stars and her eyes were kind of glazing over because Amata was smart but not really interested in things outside the Vault, and we were walking to the cafeteria because it was Nacho Tuesday and we _never_missed Nacho Tuesday. Just as I was making a digging motion with my hand and explaining how much a spoonful of neutron star weighed there was a sudden cacaphony of pubescent male laughter up ahead.

"Oh God," Amata said under her breath. "Do they _know_ they sound like donkeys?" Her steps slowed like she was reluctant to get too close to them. I tugged her sleeve forward, thinking of an extra helping of canned jalapenos.

"C'mon. They're just boys, they don't _know_ anything."

I didn't want to walk near them any more than she did but they were between me and nachos so it couldn't be helped. I mentally injected some bravery into my feet and strode down the hall as if I hadn't heard or seen the three of them clustered near the door to the diner.

"Hey, it's Doc's kid." This from a grinning and suddenly-interested Wally. _Great. The last thing I need is Wally interested in what I'm doing_. "And she brought daddy's girl with her. What are you two cootie-farms doing?"

"Spreading cooties. It's what we do." On a sudden and uncharacteristic impulse, I quickly leaned forward and swiped my tongue over the shoulder of his jacket. "There. One down, two to go." Wally snarled in disgust and jumped away while Butch cracked up laughing. Paul stared back and forth between the two of them. Poor Paul. He wanted so badly to be cool.

Amata grabbed my arm and tried to pull me into the diner as the realisation that I'd _licked Wally Mack's jacket_set in. Euurgh, I'd have to get my dad to remove my _tongue_.

"That's sick! You better not have ruined my jacket, you little lab rat!" Wally's ham hands were clenched into fists at his sides as he took two steps toward me.

But Butch put out a hand to stop him. "You can't beat up a girl in the _diner_, idiot. We can get 'em later."

"But Butch she-"

"No buts. _I'm_ the leader of this gang and _I_ decide when we beat up girls, you got that?"

"Because Tunnel Snakes rule!" I cried from inside the diner, where Amata had finally succeeded in pulling me. Now she slapped a hand over my mouth but _she_ was the one who broke into hysterical giggles.

"We'll find you later, lab rat!" called Butch from outside. "You can count on that!" Their Vault-issue boots moved steadily away down the hall.

"What's _wrong_ with you?" gasped Amata, still laughing.

"It was the cooties, they're making me delusional."

And with a brighter smile for having remembered that scene, I folded Butch's map and put it away again. I had to stop thinking for a few hours or some mirelurk was going to try and lay eggs in my skull while I was picturing the look on Butch's face the last time I'd seen him. The look was resolute and said _I'm coming with you this time_ but he never got the chance.

I sort of lost my smile on the way out the door.


	3. Thinking Is Bad For You

**I am really, REALLY sorry about the huge delay between this chapter and the last! I got caught up in new DLC's, the Sims 3, work, and a crapload of other stuff which probably didn't matter as much as I thought it did. Thank you so much for the reviews and the kind words; I can't tell you how much of a motivator they were. Seriously guys, thanks.

**Note:** Somehow some of the text was cut out during upload, I didn't notice it until after it was uploaded. Not much, just a few missing bits of sentences here and there. I think I caught everything but let me know if I missed something.

**Chapter 3**

Thinking Is _Bad_ For You

"Butch, man, that's too crazy. It's one thing to _talk _about doing it but you're talking about _doing_ it."

A cigarette flared briefly in the shadow at the end of the hall, and I could barely hear Butch's reply.

"It ain't crazy, Wally. What's crazy is you wanting to stay trapped underground for the rest of your life. Man, how can you stand this shit? How can you be okay with this... _same old_ forever?" I listened to this conversation from the relative safety of the receded wall around a water fountain. This hallway wasn't used much and I'd ducked down it - ironically enough - to avoid Butch and his pet monsters. I'd failed a history test this morning, been chewed out by Mr. Brotch, Dad, _and_ Amata, lost my favourite pair of socks, and was in no mood to be called 'lab rat' by a bunch of greased up, dumbed down, oversexed...

"I'm okay with it because it means I get to stay _alive_, Butch. I don't have to go up there and get turned into some kind of mutant freak and never have any food or water." Wally's anger was enough to pique my interest and I promptly forgot about my crappy day. _"_What don't you get about that? You have some kind of death wish?"

An inaudible reply, muffled by a drag on a cigarette. Wally said something harsh and then Butch exploded.

"Man, _fuck_ your rules! Fuck you, fuck your dad, fuck your older brother and _fuck you!_ You wanna tell the Overseer I talked about the outside, that's your business. I ain't a rat but I guess I should be used to you squealin' every time I try to think for myself."

As I listened my stomach was turning slow somersaults. If they knew I was hearing this I was dead meat. But I was trapped under a water fountain, and even if I had some way of sneaking past them I wouldn't. The passion and the conviction in Butch's voice mesmerized me. In some bizarre, totally wrong, never-ever-admit-it way... he and I were alike. I wouldn't have expressed my feelings in the same way but I knew what he meant. Trapped under tonnes of rock and dirt, a lifetime's worth of mystery and exploration to be had just above our heads. How could anyone be content with this tiny enclosed world forever? Suddenly I wanted to spring out of hiding and join the discussion.

I was spared this crazy reaction when Wally's fist slammed into the storage locker beside Butch and he clomped off in that big galoot way of his. I listened, hardly daring to breathe, as his boot steps moved farther and farther away and finally I heard the soft whoosh of an automatic door opening and closing. And then I was alone in the hallway with Butch.

Probably only a minute passed but I crouched there against the wall until I started to get a wild urge to laugh out loud, like I did whenever Amata and I had played hide and seek when we were little. I was useless at hiding; whenever I found a good spot I got so high with success that I giggled hysterically if anyone came near. I slapped a hand over my mouth and squinched my eyes shut.

The only sound was a long inhale, a pause, then an outrush of air that signalled Butch was done with his cigarette. I heard him drop and crush it on the floor, but still he didn't move from where he leaned against the wall. Since my feet were going numb and I was about to explode with laughter I was getting a little desperate for him to leave.

"You gonna come outta there or what?"

I choked and hiccupped at the same time which mercifully killed my urge to laugh. Had he known this _whole time_? With all the grace of a drugged bear I got to my feet, wincing as the flow of blood returned. Butch was standing mostly in shadow, his arms folded and one knee drawn up so his boot rested flat against the wall behind him. The pose was classic Tunnel Snake.

"I ah... didn't know that, um..." Already my face was heating up as I struggled to come up with some plausible lie.

"Sure you did. Whatever, man. I know you won't snitch. Wally's a different story." He watched as I limped a few steps closer. "I saw you duck into that alcove thing."

"Why didn't you say something?" Curiosity, and his casual dismissal of my attempted fraud, made me feel a little bolder.

Butch shrugged. "Didn't matter to me. You're all right."

I found myself studying his pupils and the colour of his skin for signs of possible drug use. Was this Butch DeLoria, of the Vault 101 DeLorias, talking to me like I was a human being? "Wally doesn't think so," I said slowly. "And you and Wally are best friends." Considering what I'd just heard between them my words sounded kind of lame.

"Nah," he drawled. "Wally's a Tunnel Snake. We're like brothers, y'know? But that's it."

This strange logic made me wonder what kind of relationship Butch thought brothers had. I was still experiencing a lingering urge to run away but since I hadn't been called any names or had my hair tied to a water pipe I was starting to feel a little braver. I couldn't remember ever voluntarily being this close to Butch before. He smelled like leather and smoke and sweet pomade, which I thought was actually kind of... nice. Butch smelling good suddenly gave me a shot of courage.

"Are you really planning to go topside?"

His eyes narrowed just a little as he studied me. "Why? You think I should?"

That wasn't the answer I was expecting but I replied as honestly as I could. "I think you should go if it's what you want, but I also think you should be planning pretty thoroughly before you do."

"You serious? You're not gonna tell me I need my head checked or maybe lobotomized?"

"I would if you were going up there without planning first. It'd have to be a pretty major undertaking. You'd need food, medicine, supplies, some way to get clean water, a flashlight and batteries, maybe a radio..." I ticked these off on my hand. "And what about maps? We don't even know what it looks like up there. Is the Vault in the middle of a forest? In the middle of a burnt out town? Are there people out there who could help us find our way around?"

Butch's eyes glinted in the darkness. "I see I ain't the only one who's been thinkin' about it."

At that moment a fresh wave of pain chose to cut short my trip down memory lane and drop me squarely in the present. And the present contained a distressing amount of blood and tears and ridiculously-slow-to-act med-X. I sat outside the main hatch to the bow section of Rivet City, my back against the rusted metal, both hands trying to staunch the flow of blood from my thigh.

_When I get this fixed up I am going back in there and butchering every last motherloving mirelurk I killed._ Most especially the one who'd left a deep gash on my right leg. It too was floating face down with the rest of its freakish kin, but due to carelessness on my part it had gotten in a parting shot.

Dogmeat panted nearby, clearly upset but incapable of helping me. I knew I could send him upriver to get someone from the carrier but the sun was sinking fast and I didn't want to be caught with my pants down if more mirelurks came out to feed. _Well, my pants _are_ down, but I'd rather the doc caught me like this than a 'lurk._ My choices were pretty limited, though, and I would have to send the dog soon before I passed out.

At least I'd found a tub in good condition. It was about two rooms back into the ship where I'd dropped it when a mirelurk king surged up from a flooded stairwell. Those sonic blasts were nasty things. My ears still rang faintly, and I decided I would perform a little casual neurosurgery on the corpse to figure out how they did it.

"Dogmeat," I gasped, unclenching my jaw to get the words out. "Find help, boy. Find help." He whined at me. "Go on, boy. Go find help." I jerked my chin in the direction of Rivet City. This was a command I'd spent a long time teaching him and he knew it meant he had to go to either Rivet City or Megaton, wherever he could get to easiest. With one more whine he turned and dashed off down the walkway.

"Time to face facts, Kate old girl. You need a break." It was true. I leaned my head back against the metal wall and squeezed my leg a little tighter. "You are stressed out and melancholy and sad and lonely and you're going to get yourself killed if you don't pull yourself together." This was also true. I'd been running in high gear since Dad died so I could do as little thinking as possible, hunting down parts for my little purifier, picking up work here and there, escorting travellers between settlements. Then one morning I'd picked up that cursed emergency signal from the Vault and heard Amata's voice and my heart had just _clenched_ and I knew I had to go back.

_And Butch,_ I bit down on my lip, _almost made it out with me._ I remembered it very clearly. Talking the Overseer into making peace with me and the memory of my father, Butch standing outside the office with his arms folded and his 10mm pistol like some kind of bodyguard, coming out to find him grinning at me and how without a word he'd pulled me into his arms and tucked my head under his chin like it belonged there. My heart had stopped from the sheer surprise of it but it was only a moment before I realised why he'd done it. What this would mean for Butch, for me, for everyone.

Our secret back and forth exchanges of information and maps and ideas had never grown into anything more... personal during our teenage years. But the pull of attraction was always there and "what if" had been the theme of a lot of my daydreams. Just for a moment, as I pulled in the smell of his old leather jacket, I allowed myself to hope for more.

The memories followed in sequence. Telling him to go pack his things, whatever he thought he would need, we would stay in the Vault tonight and leave first thing in the morning, I would show him Megaton and Rivet City and Little Lamplight and how to find food and water and so many other wonderful things. Telling him to go while I went down into the lower levels to talk to Amata, to tell her about her father's decision, to spend some time with my best friend and make plans for the future of the Vault, not knowing that her father was already talking with her over the comm system.

Walking down the cool, dry hallways, my pack seeming to weigh nothing at all, my rifle almost forgotten across my back, imagining that I was helping to plant the seeds of a new world together with the people I cared about, wishing Dad could be here to see, knowing, just _knowing_ that everything would be okay from now on.

Knowing the second I walked into the infirmary that everything was not okay. Amata was flanked by Officer Armstrong and Officer Taylor and Wally Mack and his sister. Her eyes were kind and guarded and serious, that combination I had grown to dislike when we were kids together and she was about to tell me that something was for my own good.

I couldn't really remember exactly what she said to me in those moments, but _you have to leave forever_ was the gist of it. I think she may have thanked me for saving the Vault, but that might have been right before blaming me for the Vault's troubles. And Wally, that despicable excuse for a mouth breathing troglodyte, stared at me the whole time, his eyes glittering with malice. He had something to say and he clearly wanted to say it.

Telling Amata I wanted to look for any of my father's things, learning that the Overseer had incinerated our belongings after we left, telling Amata she should sleep on it before she did something so final, learning she meant I had to leave _right now_, finally getting to the most important point and telling Amata that Butch was coming with me and I had to wait for him.

Learning why Wally looked so fucking happy.

Butch, I was informed, had been part of making the mess down there. Butch was not leaving the Vault because Butch would do his part to clean up his home. The Vault needed _all_ of its residents to pull through this crisis.

The Vault did not need _me._

I knew I was defeated because I couldn't bring myself to fight my way back into the upper levels and that was what it would take to get to Butch. Suddenly I was exhausted. I could, I realised miserably, pull out my laser rifle and incinerate everyone in this place without receiving more than a few scratches. They were woefully ill-equipped to deal with a violent me. But they knew as well as I did that there _was _no violent me. All they had to do was use my nature against me to win this battle, and they did.

As I was hustled down to the reactor level and the entrance I came as close to begging as I ever had in my life. _Why won't you let him go? He hates it here, he's always hated it here. Please, Amata, if you ever valued our friendship, please let him come with me. Neither of us will bother you again. Don't use Butch to punish me._

Wally's parting shot came with a sneer. Butch was getting a hard lesson in responsibility, something I could probably use myself, something my father knew nothing about and had obviously never taught me. Any words I could think of to reply to this got jammed in my throat. How could I tell him in the eight seconds I had before I was at the Vault door what I'd been doing out here? What my dad had accomplished?

Then I was through and the alarm buzzed and the light flashed. Amata's lips moved but in the noise of grinding metal I couldn't hear her. I did see that there were tears in her eyes. I was utterly unmoved by them, so consumed by my own bewildered grief that I couldn't even make my feet move. I just stood there and watched the great steel door roll back into place and shut me out- and Butch in - _again._

"And that's what happened," I rasped out loud. The sound of my voice startled me into awareness. The sun was perceptibly closer to the horizon and my leg had finally stopped bleeding, but considering how weak and tired I felt there probably wasn't much more blood in me to lose.

Suddenly there was ecstatic barking across the river and a voice shouted at me.

'Hey!! Kate, hang on, we're coming!" I squinted and saw Chief Harkness running with enviable agility over the rocks. Doc Preston was labouring behind him with a bag in one hand, and a couple other people I didn't recognise followed with a stretcher. _Wow,_ I thought, _Dogmeat must have really been paying attention to those lessons._

Harkness was predictably the first to reach me. I'd watched him in action on a number of occasions and the guy's reflexes were nuts. He never seemed to tire, either. He could've appointed himself Security Chief of the DC Ruins and probably pulled it off.

"Hi," I managed as he dropped to his knees beside me. When he gently pulled my hands away from my leg he whistled through his teeth.

"There can't be anything in that old hulk worth getting torn apart for, kiddo. What did you do to yourself?"

"Wasn't me. Mirelurk." Doc Preston finally puffed his way onto the ramp and set down his bag, nudging Harkness out of the way. "Hey Chief..."

"What is it, Kate?"

"I'm kinda tired. I think... gonna take a vacation." I was very warm and comfortable now. The med-x had finally taken care of the pain and Doc Preston was pulling a few stimpacks out of his bag. "Just want... a few weeks off. Maybe you..."

"Maybe I what, kiddo?" Harkness knelt beside me and took my hand.

"... could be the Lone Wanderer for a bit, okay? M'really tired."

My cheek suddenly stung.

"Don't you fall asleep now, Kate. Not until the Doc's got you patched up and he says it's okay."

"Ugh. Fine." Cheated out of a lovely long nap, I watched as Doc Preston injected a couple of stimpacks into my leg and bound it tightly. I wiggled my toes; at least they still worked.

"All right, let's get you up and onto this stretcher. I'm going to put some stitches in at the clinic, clean you up a little." The Doc shook his head. "Hope it was worth it. This one's gonna cost you."

"How about no charge for a repeat customer?" His only reply was a bark of laughter. Before I knew it Harkness had lifted me onto the stretcher and the two strangers were carrying me toward Rivet City.

"Anything left alive in there I should be concerned about?" asked Harkness as he kept pace beside me. Dogmeat prowled ahead, sniffing the ground.

"Probably not much. Not sure about the lower levels."

"How far down did you go?"

"Can't swim."

He grunted in reply and I let my head rest against the musty canvas. _For the next month you are forbidden from thinking, Katherine May Callahan. No more Butch, no more Amata, no more Wally Mack, no more that scavenger who cheated you on ten boxes of ammo, no more Vault 101, no more Jericho's lewd jokes.... and especially no more Dad._

I broke my new rule about not thinking by thinking about it for the whole ride back.


	4. An Irradiated Surprise

**Holy moly, did that ever take me a long time to finish. There was sort of a little (long?) hiatus in there. Really sorry about the delay, this bit was a little harder to write than the others. I discarded a few different versions and I _think_ it's right this time. Again, I need to thank those of you who've left such wonderfully kind reviews. You guys have really kept me going. Internet hugs for all of you. :D

***When we left off, our semi-heroine Kate had been brought back to Rivet City on a stretcher with a fairly serious leg wound. She spends a day doped up in Doc Preston's clinic.

**Chapter Four**

An Irradiated Surprise

Very slowly I drifted up from sleep, feeling deliciously comfortable and completely at peace. There was also warmth caressing my hand and I stretched my fingers toward it.

"Mmm..." I murmured. "Butch..."

"I thought you called him Dogmeat."

My eyes snapped open to find my _very badly behaved dog_ licking my hand adoringly. When I yanked it away he sat back on his haunches to smile at me. Doc Preston stood at the foot of the narrow cot on which I lay, a syringe in his hand. He pointed at my leg with it.

"I put fifteen stitches in, they should hold fine while you heal up. One last shot ought to get you back on your feet in the meantime. All you need now is rest, you may as well head back to your own quarters." He injected the stimpak quickly and professionally. Once he nodded at me, I sat up stiffly and wiped my slimy hand on my remaining pant leg.

"Thanks, Doc. I owe you one."

"You owe me more than one, young lady. Your leg soaked up about two hundred and fifty caps worth of supplies."

I rolled my eyes. "Gimme an hour to count them out and I'll be back." Very carefully, for I was still groggy from whatever the doc had shot me up with, I stood on my good leg. Dogmeat rose and loped through the clinic door, clearly happy to be up and moving again. "Really, Doc, I mean it. Thank you. I'm glad you came all the way out there."

"Your dog didn't give us much choice. He latched onto Chief Harkness' boot and dragged him down the ramp. It was the Chief who told me I'd better get my bag, just in case." Doc Preston began to busy himself straightening up the clinic, a sure sign that he couldn't take any more gratitude and wanted me on my way. I smiled at his back and followed Dogmeat back to my room, limping sorely along.

It was pretty quiet in the carrier at this time of day. Most of the residents were in the market or up on the deck getting some relatively fresh air. A few diehards would be down in the Muddy Rudder, like Trinnie or that awful Hargrave woman, but I could see the sun shining through a porthole and knew that everyone tended to take advantage of good weather. Other than one or two security guards, to whom I nodded cordially, I encountered no one.

Dogmeat was waiting outside the hotel door and he slipped inside when I pushed it open. Against the far wall was my pack and my laser rifle, and of all things the stupid tub I had liberated from the broken bow section. I barked an unladylike laugh. I didn't doubt it had been Harkness. The man was tougher than a yao guai, but I knew his exterior hid a very warm heart. He never admitted it and I never admitted I knew about it and the arrangement worked well for him.

I opened the fridge and got out a bottle of water and a raw brahmin steak. The steak I tossed into Dogmeat's dish and the water I cracked open, swallowing half in one go. Then I realised that I not only had a small working purifier, I had an intact tub in which to store clean water. And that meant, as soon as I scaled the rust and grime out of the tub... I could have a _bath._ A real bath. The water would only be lukewarm but it would be free of rads, dirt and that faintly sulphur smell that all water had on this ship. In a fit of excitement I dug through my trunk until I found an old rough rag, sprinkled Abraxo generously in the tub and doused it with a little clean water so I could get started immediately.

Fifteen minutes later I had a clean bathtub, a raging headache and a strong desire to throw up. The thing about stimpaks was, they made you feel like you were all better. But you weren't, really, and time was always going to be the sole cure for the body's ails. I'd lost a lot of blood and as I leaned weakly against the wall I thought about maybe postponing the bath until I'd had some more to drink and a good hard nap.

After finishing another bottle of water (what an enormous luxury, not having to ration it) I slept fitfully for many hours. The cabin was uncomfortably warm during late afternoon and evening and I woke often, sticky, itchy and bathed in sweat. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore.

I lurched to my feet like a zombie and hobbled over to the tub. A tightly twisted rag served as a drain plug, and when I pushed the tub half a foot to the right it sat beneath the shelf upon which rested the purifier. From there, all I had to do was secure a short length of hose from the rusty sink to the purifier, turn on the taps and the unit, and wait in increasing discomfort for the tub to fill.

It was now around nine o'clock at night according to my Pip-Boy. I could hear Dogmeat panting outside the hotel door; he didn't like to be closed into the room while I slept, instead he lay outside or roamed the halls, looking for friendly handouts. I decided I could probably spare the water to give him a bath sometime too. Like me, he was pretty ripe after sloshing around a derelict ship killing mirelurks. Finally I judged the water deep enough to be useful and turned off the taps and the purifier.

In a frenzy of distaste I shucked my clothing and grabbed an ancient bar of soap from a crate that somebody had found in one of the lower decks. It made hardly any lather and smelled kind of like lye, but it would do the job.

One foot went into the tub. _Ohhh..._ Then the other foot. _Ohhhhh yes... _I sat down, and my thoughts turned to mushy incoherency. I sloshed. I splashed. I slid down 'til the water was at my nose and I blew bubbles. I floated with the water covering my ears, listening to the unique sound of a giant aircraft carrier creaking from underwater. It was without a doubt the best bath I ever had. When I figured the dirt was softened enough I attacked it with the bar of soap and a will. My hair, generally pulled back into a stiff and sweat-soaked ponytail, turned several shades lighter into its natural auburn while the bath water turned several shades darker. I scrubbed and scrubbed and then when I thought I was clean, I scrubbed some more for good measure.

With a happy sigh I levered myself up out of the tub, careful to keep my weight off my bum leg. The rag, when removed, let the water out onto a floor drain. I poured several more containers of water over myself to rinse everything away and then, _then_... I was clean.

I was also clean without so much as a towel to dry off. As I wasn't nearly adventurous enough to run around on deck in the buff I decided to just wrap my hair in a clean t-shirt and let the rest of me dry _au naturel_. My skin tingled in a wonderful way, whether from the scrubbing or the lye, and I thought I would happily trade a year's worth of Nacho Tuesdays for this one bath. Even the extra jalapenos.

This was such a perfectly _happy _moment that I was not surprised when a knock sounded on my door.

"Who is it?" I called, trying to keep the resignation out of my voice.

"Security Chief Danvers. I need to talk to you, Kate. Now."

"Let me throw something on, I'll be right out."

I pulled another clean t-shirt out of my trunk and over my head, then slid on a clean pair of combats. The leather armour could wait for another day. Barefoot and still somewhat damp, I pulled the door open.

Danvers, who was Harkness' night shift half, flicked a disapproving glance over me from head to toe. I knew she must think she was looking at an extravagant waste of water and she was mostly right, but for once I just didn't care. I didn't think anybody could begrudge me a bath after all of the work I'd been doing lately.

"Can I come in?"

I stepped back to allow her into the room. Her mouth thinned even further when she saw the wet tub but she made no comment about it. When I offered her a bottle of clean water her attitude seemed to improve a little.

"So what's up? Did that James kid run off again?" I had never, ever confessed to _anybody _that I may or may not have said something pretty rude to the boy in a fit of pique, and that may or may not have made him decide to run away. I'd quietly brought him back and quietly tried to avoid any attention for my heroic "rescue".

"No. This is far more unusual. You know that thing you wear on your wrist, that Pip-Boy, you call it? That means you came from a Vault, right?"

"Pretty much. It's Vault technology, I've never seen anybody else wearing one."

"Listen. I think this might be a situation best left in your hands. There's somebody down in the Muddy Rudder causing some trouble. He's scared off a couple of patrons and he's waving around a switchblade."

I was baffled. "Not to sound snippy, but why on earth are you here telling me this instead of down there arresting him? And what does he have to do with my Pip-Boy?"

Danvers sighed. "I said this was unusual. He hasn't hurt anyone, he's just waving the knife around whenever Brock gets too close. He's had way too much to drink, he scared Trinnie pretty badly, and I think there's something wrong with him. And... he's wearing a Pip-Boy like yours."

I absorbed this statement in silence. Someone from another Vault? That was impossible. I'd stumbled across a handful of Vaults out in the wastes and to the last one, they were empty, rusted tombs. Nobody lived in them except molerats, radroaches and shifting communities of raiders and super mutants. Maybe some lucky wastelander had scavenged the device from the ruins of a Vault, but how would he have known how to activate it? Was he wearing it as some sort of non-functional trophy?

"I'm still not sure why you're handing this one to me. What do you want me to do? He isn't from a Vault, Danvers, not in the way you're thinking." _Trust me_, I thought bleakly, thinking of the only occupied Vault and its sealed door.

She shook her head firmly. "I don't believe that. He doesn't look like he belongs out here. There's just something... different about him. His way of talking, his clothes... they're off, somehow. I believe he _is _from a Vault and I believe _you _can talk to him."

I could be pretty obtuse about some things but I knew when I was beaten. So I heaved a long-suffering sigh and said, "Fine. Let me put some boots on and I'll go down and see what I can do. You have guards down there?"

"No, I sent them off. I don't get the impression he's dangerous. There's nobody down there but Brock, Belle and the Vault weirdo."

I sighed once more for good measure. "All right. I'm going." Danvers looked immensely relieved and she headed out the door while I pulled on my boots. I picked up my laser rifle, quickly checked the lenses and the charges, strode confidently out the door and then realised I was marching into battle with a wet t-shirt wrapped around my head. I pulled it off impatiently.

On my way down the stairwell to the lower deck I considered how I might approach the man. A drunk wastelander with a knife didn't sound like much of a threat to me, and if he hadn't hurt anybody by now he probably wasn't going to. I was definitely curious about his Pip-Boy and where he'd found it. Maybe there was another Vault or two out there that I hadn't explored. If there were, maybe I could get some answers for my increasingly suspicious questions about Vault-Tec.

Just outside the door to the bar I paused to listen. There was murmuring from within, the hum of a nearby boiler, no commotion that I could detect. Making sure the safety on my rifle was on, I centered it neatly on my back and slipped inside.

Several things occurred at once.

All the blood drained from my face at the sight of Butch DeLoria sagging on a barstool, a bottle of beer in one grimy hand. Immediately I knew he was not so much drunk as very, very sick. His switchblade was gripped loosely in his non-beer hand and he looked more in danger of slicing off one of his own fingers than using it on anyone else. I also processed the unutterably miserable expression on his face and knew that he would not want me to see him like this. It would humiliate him terribly.

These thoughts ran through my head in the three seconds during which my legs pivoted me smoothly behind a steel pillar, safely out of sight.

My jaw dropped open. I was hiding from Butch _again_, and this time my own traitorous body had made the decision for me. _What kind of Lone Wanderer are you?? You're hiding from somebody you've known since you were a kid! Somebody who isn't even dangerous, except for the occasional atomic wedgie or hallway headlock._

I peeked around the pillar. Hectic red patches sat high on his cheeks and his neck was flushed. His face looked drawn, thinner than I remembered, the skin ashen and unhealthy looking. I realised that he had rad sickness. Butch released his grip on the knife and it slipped, clattering to the floor. His hand shook as he slowly brought it up to rub at his temple.

My heart broke.

Not caring about his possible feelings of shame I quickly crossed the bar to Butch's side. This was no time to worry about his ego. Besides, Brock looked like he was about to make his move.

Gently I pried the beer from Butch's unresisting fingers, then took his chin to make him look at me. His eyes were red and his lips cracked. The smell coming off him was atrocious; dirt, sweat, filth, dried blood, and an underlying odour of illness. He looked utterly beaten. My need to know how he'd gotten out of Vault 101 and found his way to Rivet City was shoved into a back corner of my mind to be addressed later.

"Kate?" he asked blearily. His voice was hoarse, as if he'd been yelling. I could only nod mutely at him. "Where'd you come from?"

"Never mind that," I said, not trusting my own voice. "Come on, Butch. You're sick and you need help." I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him to stand. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah... my mom taught me when I was real little." He tried to smile but his knees wobbled suddenly. I tightened my grip. "Think I... prolly had one too many."

"Maybe. Don't worry about it. I'm going to take you to get cleaned up and get some medicine into you."

"No... no docs... I ain't sick enough for that." I began walking us to the door, keeping his arm over my shoulder for support.

"No doctors," I agreed, trying to ignore the way the stitches were pulling in my leg. "I'm taking you to my room. I can fix you up there."

When we were out in the hallway he suddenly lurched to the side and vomited. I held still until he finished, then handed him the rag I kept in my back pocket. Wordlessly he wiped his mouth. His eyes were glittering feverishly and I could feel the heat baking off him. Very faintly I could hear his Pip-Boy ticking and stuttering, the internals sensing that his radiation levels were too high.

We had to stop two more times to let him throw up and by the time we reached my door he was drained and gasping. Dogmeat slipped inside the room soundlessly, having kept watch in the hallway for my return. Quickly, before I lost my composure, I sat Butch down in a chair and immediately started the water purifier filling the tub. While that was going I got several bottles of water out of the little fridge and unscrewed the caps.

"Drink these," I told him, unable to look him in the eye for fear I would start to weep. Shakily he raised the first one to his lips; the fact that he didn't question me giving him an order worried me deeply. When I was sure he would continue sipping the clean water I pulled two bags of Rad-Away from the first aid kit I'd mounted on the wall. One I divided among the water bottles evenly, the other I hung from a nail on the wall with the intention of borrowing an IV line from Doc Preston. The bottles of water were small, and Butch was finishing up his first when I made him stand.

"We need to get you washed off. The dust and dirt out there is always irradiated." He made no sound, either of protest or assent, as I started to unbutton his ragged clothing. An angry rash had spread across his chest and shoulders and I could almost count his ribs. _How long was he out there?_ Working as quickly as I could and trying for clinical detachment, I made him sit so I could pull off his boots and pants. In none of my daydreams had I ever pictured him so starved or lean. He'd always tended more toward barrel-chested and solid, at least from what I could tell under that damn leather jacket. A hot prickling sensation warned me that I was close enough to tears without dwelling on his sad state.

"Into the bath now. Come on." Gently I helped him into the water and he sighed, an encouraging sound. "Dogmeat, watch him." I made the dog sit next to the tub and made Butch promise me that he wasn't going to slide underwater while I ran to the clinic.

"Sure thing, girl." Relief and certainly nothing else coloured my cheeks when he said that, even though his tone lacked its usual Butch-ness. I dashed out the door and made the clinic in record time. Without giving Doc Preston much choice in the matter I borrowed an IV needle and a length of surgical tubing. I sprinted out again.

When I returned Butch was leaning his head back against the tub, his eyes closed, one hand absently rubbing behind Dogmeat's ears. I took this as an excellent sign and some of the fear and worry began to loosen from its knot around my chest.

"Feeling any better?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant as I set up the makeshift IV.

"Yeah. Nothin' to worry about. Just sunburn or somethin'." Butch's voice was also nonchalant but he avoided looking at me.

"Probably some heatstroke too," I agreed gravely. "It's been pretty hot out there." As if I wasn't doing anything at all, I knelt beside the tub and took the arm that wasn't busy winning Dogmeat over. Very gently I slid a needle under his skin and began a steady drip of Rad-Away. Between the drug and his physical state he would be out like a light within half an hour. Then I would be free to agonise over how he had gotten this way. "You have to be careful to keep hydrated when you're travelling, too. I learned that the hard way myself."

"Huh." Butch sounded carefully disinterested. His blue eyes gazed straight ahead without really seeming to see anything, but I noticed his jaw was tight. I supposed it was hard for a Tunnel Snake to be sitting naked in a tub with a bad case of rad sickness, being nursemaided by his former childhood victim.

Now that he seemed to be recovering enough to talk, my sense of tact was being undermined by my curiosity and concern. I turned around and sat on the floor with my back leaning against the tub to give him a little privacy. While he seemed to be rallying I didn't want to leave him alone just yet.

"Butch, I..."

"Sunburn," he repeated stubbornly.

"Yeah, sunburn." I hid a smile. "How long were you out there without any uh, sunscreen on?"

"I dunno. 'Bout a week." I heard him shift in the water.

"How did you..." My voice thickened and I had to swallow. I was glad I was facing away from him. "How did you get out? I thought... I thought I would never see you again." Suddenly I wanted to touch him, to make sure he was really here and alive, next to me. I clenched my hands into fists to keep them from reaching out desperately.

He was silent for a long moment. I listened to his even breathing, Dogmeat's quiet panting on the other side of the tub, the echoing groans deep within the ship. "Amata put a couple goons at the door, night and day. I still had my stuff packed and ready to go, I just needed a chance to grab it an' run." He coughed once or twice. "So I started messin' with the wiring in one of the dorms off the Atrium, upstairs y'know, so they'd be as far as I could get 'em away from the door when the fire started."

"Fire??"

"Yeah, I set it so the current would melt the casings on the wires after a few days." He sounded defensive. "Nobody got hurt, Kate. I ain't a monster. I made sure it was a room nobody used." I murmured an apology, though that hadn't been what I meant. "Problem was, with Stanley workin' on the water chip he was drawing more power than I figured. Must've rerouted it through some unused sections. The fire started when I was down cleanin' near the entrance. Figured I had to take my chance, didn't have time to get my stuff."

"You were out there for a week with no supplies?"

"Yeah, kinda. I found that Megaton place pretty easy but you weren't there and nobody knew where you went. I didn't have any of those bottlecaps you guys use like money either." I noticed he said _you guys_, including me among the people who belonged out here. "So I grabbed a few from some chick in some house in that little town outside the Vault. She was sleepin', didn't even hear me come in." I shook my head at the note of pride in his voice.

"So then what?"

"You ain't gonna rag on me for stealin'?"

I glanced at him over my shoulder. His blue eyes were fixed on me and I tried to ignore the warmth in my cheeks. "It isn't cut and dried out here. You have to do what you need to survive. I understand that pretty well."

"Huh. Guess you ain't a complete teacher's pet after all."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Thanks." He grinned at me and I couldn't help but grin back, so very glad to see him smiling.

"Anyway, I got a few things in Megaton like food and ammo. Had to sell my jacket too, those bastards. Then I heard some Dog guy on the radio talking about someone called the Lone Wanderer. He mentioned your dad a couplea times so I figured that was you." I covered my eyes with one hand. Of all the people to hear one of Three Dog's enthusiastic and embarrassing "news" stories. "He said somethin' about Rivet City so I got directions and headed out. An' that's that."

I doubted that was the whole story. Butch had suffered out there, that much was obvious. But his eyelids were starting to droop and as I watched he shivered in the water. I could get the rest of the story out of him later.

Slowly I stood. The bag of Rad-Away was half gone and I figured between that and what he'd drunk in the water he would be okay overnight. I would give him the rest tomorrow. Once again pretending I wasn't doing anything at all, I gently slid the needle out of his arm and looped the tubing over the nail. I had to shudder at the completely unsterile conditions; I was still my father's daughter and I'd been raised on love and medical texts.

"Pass me that soap, would ya?" I handed the bar to Butch and he gave his hair a thorough scrubbing. I busied myself putting cleaner sheets on the bed and kicking all of tomorrow's laundry into a corner. Despite my best efforts not to I kept glancing over at him, almost unable to believe he was really here. The redness around his cheeks and neck had receded and I figured with some regular feedings he would flesh out again. But, tomorrow was an entirely different day and I could worry about it once I'd gotten through tonight. As Butch stood from the tub, slowly, shakily, I resisted the urge to help him. Instead I handed him the t-shirt I'd used to dry my hair and a pair of combats that I had to roll up but would fit him until we could pick up some decent gear.

Again I tactfully looked the other way while he dried off and pulled them on, rolling back the blankets on the bed to keep my hands occupied. Then we both found ourselves standing in awkward silence. I finally gestured to the bed.

"In. We both need sleep."

"I ain't a little kid, Kate. You don't gotta hover like a mother hen."

His words were unexpectedly short. Without looking at me he climbed into the bed. Why had that bruised my feelings so much? I decided to chalk it up to being very tired and emotionally wrung out and possibly a little hungry. Shoving my hurt down, I flicked off the light and slowly walked back to the bed. Butch lay on his side, facing the wall, the blanket around his waist. He didn't turn as I slid in next to him.

Even with the space separating us I could feel his heat along my left side. It unnerved me a little, having been alone for so long. Tentatively I reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. I felt him stiffen.

"Tomorrow'll be okay, Butch," I said softly. "I promise." When he didn't respond, and in fact shrugged his shoulder slightly away from me, I took my hand back. It was all right, I told myself gamely as I rolled over to face the other way. He'd need some time to get better and to get over the feeling of being helpless. The least I could do was not rub it in. Maybe I _had_ been hovering. This thought wasn't much comfort as I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep, but it was all I had. Maybe it would help soothe the hollowness in my heart.

Dimly, in the middle of the night as I was just drifting off, I felt Butch's weight shift on the bed. Then his arm slid around me and pulled me close. He settled me against his chest and let out a long, slow breath.

"Thanks," he whispered. I brought his hand up to my cheek and held it there. Then we both slept.


	5. Poindexter Scores

**Note:** I just want to say that if you enjoy reading this chapter even half as much as I enjoyed writing it, I think I did okay. :)

**Chapter Five**

Poindexter Scores

When I woke the next morning I found myself trying to figure out what was going on. Why was I in this strange position and where was all this heat coming from? Why couldn't I feel my left arm? What was that steady, rhythmic noise against my ear? I very carefully opened one eye, the one that wasn't pressed into the heat, and found myself inches from an expanse of warm male skin. Skin that was dusted with gorgeous brown hair, that smelled like clean leather and soap and musky warmth and pomade...

Which meant I was lying pressed along Butch's side, one arm draped over his chest and the other beneath his back, my cheek resting in the hollow of his shoulder. I also had my leg casually thrown over both of his. He was snoring lightly as he slept. _Now_ this_ is a nice way to wake up_, I thought. If I was indeed awake and not just dreaming. But the solid warmth of his sleeping body was quite real. So was the hand that had slid beneath my t-shirt and was resting along my ribs. My breath caught. If that hand were to shift even an inch upward I would probably lose the ability to reason.

Hesitantly I lifted my hand and let my fingertips drift through the hair on his chest. The texture was crisp, male, perfect. I ran my touch a little higher to his neck and jaw. He needed a shave but I found that I loved the rough, scratchy feel of his stubble. I turned my hand over to rub his jaw with my knuckles, feeling such tenderness for this stubborn, mule-headed, stupid, wonderful, unfathomable man, that I never wanted to move past this moment in time.

I continued my light exploration of his skin. _Am I allowed to do this?_ I wondered. _I mean, we aren't... _together_, or anything, but... I mean, this is okay right? We _could _be together. I'd be all right with that. More than all right. I mean, only if he's interested. Is he interested? Does he sleep chastely with strange girls often? Not that I'm a stranger. We've known each other all our lives. And if he hadn't been so sick last night I bet he wouldn't have been doing much of anything chastely._ My face heated up. Involuntarily my eyes followed the dark line of hair down his abdomen where it disappeared beneath the blanket. _I wonder what's down there. I mean... GAH, stupid, you _know_ what's down there, you were supposed to be the Vault's next doctor_. My cheeks were positively flaming right now. I was surprised he didn't wake up with second degree burns.

Any minute now I was going to get my courage up and... _do_ something. Something sexy and daring and confident, something that wouldn't tip him off to the fact that I had no idea what the hell I was doing. Yeah. Something bold. Any minute now.

Instead my cowardly fingers continued to trace patterns on his skin. I still couldn't feel my left arm and I wondered how long it had been lying trapped beneath Butch, and how I was going to work it free without waking him. If I was really going to _do_ something to him, or preferably with him, I should probably have two functioning arms. I didn't relish the thought of trying to make love with one limb dead from lack of blood.

_Oh no, I thought it! Making love?_ If my face got any hotter it was going to explode. This was not how the hero of the Wastes was supposed to get the man she wanted. She was supposed to stride in and rip off her clothes (and his clothes) and stake her claim. A _real_ hero would pull her arm free and straddle Butch_ right this instant_ and then wake him with scorching kisses.

Oh, I wished I were a real hero. I wished I were the Lone Wanderer that Three Dog always claimed I was. It was one thing to wade into the ruins of DC and outgun a few super mutants, or to end the threat of a raider encampment, or even to descend into a forgotten, stinking Vault, but _this_ was _way_ beyond my scope of experience. What if I messed up? What if I was so _bad_ at sex that he laughed? I knew Butch was no inexperienced flower like myself. There was a certain type of girl who always seemed to be attracted to him and as far as I saw he never turned one away. Just because I was attracted to him did not mean I was that type of girl. Christine Kendall's type, for example. Or Susie Mack. I don't think I was supposed to know about her; hell, I don't think anyone was. If Wally had ever found out they would have been finding pieces of Butch for months.

I tilted my head back a little so I could look up at his face. My hand followed of its own accord, tracing the firm line of his jaw. When I looked at him, really _looked_ at him, this heavy warmth flooded through my veins and started to drown my worrying. How could I not touch him? How could I not do what my body demanded, what it knew was right? There was an instinct here that was older than me, older than the Vaults or the war or even known history. I raised my leg higher along his and turned his face toward mine, sliding my hand along the roughness of his cheek.

I felt the instant he came awake. The instant my lips pressed to his and my insides melted and his hand tightened on my side. I felt everything. His swift intake of breath, the hard, hot proof against my thigh that what I was doing had not gone unnoticed. His hand slid higher and cupped my breast and the rush of heat was so overwhelming that I sank my teeth into his lower lip with a small groan. I couldn't believe this was happening.

I threaded my fingers up through his hair, wanting to get closer to him, wishing the thin layer of cotton between us would disappear. Then Butch levered himself up, turned on his side so he was facing me, fixed his speedwell blue eyes on mine. I used the opportunity to pull my numb left arm out from under him but when I tried to slide it to the back of his neck I ended up smacking him in the mouth.

I gaped comically. "I... my arm's asleep. Oh god."

Slowly his mouth turned up in a smile, then a grin, and then he threw his head back and laughed. At first I couldn't think what to do, but the humour of it struck me and I found myself chuckling a little, and before long I was laughing with him. He slid both hands beneath my t-shirt and up my back, pulling me close to him while he continued to shake with laughter. I hid my face in his chest, tears squeezing from my eyes as I tried to control my own laughter. He buried his face in my hair and shook his head.

"I think that was domestic abuse, girl. I ain't gonna stand for that kinda treatment." This set off a fresh wave of giggling and I bit my lip, trying to stop being so ridiculous. _I think I just botched my first attempt at seduction, and here I am laughing about it? I should be hiding under the bed in mortification._ But I just couldn't bring myself to feel embarrassed.

Then Butch's breath paused. I felt his stubbled chin slide along my neck as he turned his face and then his lips were on my skin, nipping my earlobe, dragging sensuously along my jawline until they met my own lips. He slanted his mouth over mine and all of my laughter died as my whole body went white hot. _Oh... my god..._ Was this what I had been missing all this time?

My fingertips were tingling with feeling now. I twined one hand through his hair again, loving the thick, silky feeling of it. The other I ran down his spine. I felt a thrill of delight when he shivered.

Now his tongue ran across my lips. I was consumed with hunger. I leaned into him, kissing him voraciously, not caring that I didn't have the slightest shred of experience to back me up, only wanting to have all of him at once. I found my hands tugging impatiently at his pants. He broke the kiss long enough to grip the hem of my t-shirt and pull it over my head. My skin was on fire but still I shuddered at the cool air. Butch rolled us so he was braced over top of me.

"Kate," he groaned. I brushed my lips along the underside of his jaw, tasting his skin, reveling in the roughness. With one hand I traced my way down his stomach until I felt the hard, fascinating shape of him through his combats. Feeling braver by the moment I curled my hand around him through the worn cotton, stroking gently, learning his shape. He groaned again and caught my hand after a minute.

"This is gonna be over... real soon... if you keep that up." His breathing was as ragged as my own.

"We have the day off," I whispered, unable to find any volume to my voice. "There's plenty of time."

Butch let his weight onto me and both of his hands slid from my waist, along my ribs, up to my breasts. "We're gonna need the whole day," he said, his words hot against my ear. I pressed up into his kneading touch, my lower lip caught between my teeth. His thumbs flicked gently and I gasped, arching up. I ran my own hands down to his perfect male behind and squeezed him tighter against me.

Then he startled me by rolling off the bed and pulling me to my feet with him. Gazing at me intently, he ran his fingertips down my stomach and slid them into the top of my pants. I felt the button release and then the zipper, and then the combats were sliding down around my hips onto the floor. Determined that I should not be the only naked one of us I fumbled with his pants while he took my face in his hands, resuming his hot, open-mouthed assault on my senses. I couldn't remember how buttons worked. I tugged at it but it wouldn't go, and finally I tugged so hard that the thread broke and the button skittered off into a corner. With a moan of relief I pushed his pants off of his body and pressed against him, skin to skin, head to toe, heat meeting heat, curves meeting hardness in all the right places.

His hands were everywhere now, roaming up and down and pausing here and there to explore in detail. I couldn't get enough of touching him, of tasting him, of the low growl at the back of his throat when I gripped him in my hand. Then he turned and backed onto the bed, still kissing me, taking me with him and pulling me onto his lap so I faced him. How was this even possible? How could my heart be racing this fast without stopping? How could the ache between my thighs be so intense it bordered on pain? I broke the kiss to steal a few breaths of air.

"Butch," I whispered raggedly. I couldn't think of anything else to say as I looked into his eyes, saw the way he gritted his teeth when I squirmed against him. His own breathing was harsh. Keeping his gaze locked on mine he slid his hands slowly and deliberately down between my legs. My mouth dropped open on a shuddering gasp as a perfect inferno began to bloom at my core and I gripped his shoulders, rising up on my knees and pressing into him like I was trying to melt right into his skin.

It was too much, I was too close. I grabbed his hands and pushed them away, then going purely on animal instinct I lifted a little higher and guided him to where I needed him most. I had to open my eyes again, had to see the look on his face as I slowly sank down upon him, feeling every hollow corner of my self filled to perfect completion. There was only one small twinge of pain and now I was officially a ruined woman which was okay because there wasn't anyone else who mattered, wasn't any other person I could imagine being with right now.

Then he reached down and with one thumb began to pull my world apart at the seams. With the other hand he pulled me down hard onto him and began to rock with me, establishing a rhythm so ancient there were no words for it. In only moments I was lost.

"Oh... Butch... _Jesus_..." His own hoarse cry was the most perfect sound I could have imagined as our bodies spiralled out of control. I bit down on his shoulder, wanting it to last forever, unable to bear it even a second longer and finally... finally, he tumbled back onto the bed, taking me down on top of him.

We both panted as if we'd run miles and his arms around me were threatening to crush a few ribs. I placed exultant kisses along his shoulders and neck and up his jaw to his perfect lips, where I let them linger. He slowly twined his tongue over mine as his hands loosened a bit and stroked my back with the same gentleness.

After a long while I pulled my head back to look down at him. His eyes were closed and the corner of his mouth was turned up in a faint echo of that cocky smile of his. Feeling satisfied and more than a little smug - and glowing _everywhere_ - I laid my head back down on his shoulder.

_Did you... did you seriously just have sex with Butch?_ Yes, I thought at myself, I think I did. I squinched up my face, feeling suddenly and belatedly shy. I had just been gasping and sweating and writhing with _Butch DeLoria_, my childhood nemesis.

I snorted and clapped a hand over my mouth.

"What's so funny?"

"I think you just showed me a real tunnel snake," I choked out, by now laughing too hard to hide it. I could also feel my cheeks turning red again. How could I be flirting and blushing at the same time? Wait, _was _it even flirting? And did it count if you'd already slept together?

Butch groaned. "I was totally gonna hold you and ask about your feelings and stuff, but maybe I don't wanna know anymore."

"Like hell you were. You were probably going to ask about breakfast." I grinned, though still hiding my face, not quite ready to look at him. What I had just done was slowly sinking in. Suddenly I didn't know what to say to him. I didn't know whether I'd had my one and only intimate moment with him, whether there would ever be more of it. What if it was a mistake to feel this way? How _did_ I feel, anyway? I bit my lip, breathing in his scent and listening to his heart as I tried to sort it out.

It was true that I'd been enormously attracted to him since way back in the Vault, but my method of coping with it was to intellectualize it. I figured I was just caught up in his bad boy image, that it was something most teenage girls went through and I would grow out of it. I told myself I wasn't really interested in a relationship anyway, so what was the point in trying? I _liked_ being single because it left me to my own devices. It meant I didn't have to wear makeup or get stressed about my hair and worry if some stupid guy didn't like me anymore because he hadn't called me in _sixteen hours_ and was I too fat, and was I too short, and why couldn't I get my hair to look like Betty Kowalski's on prom night, and all of the things I heard the girls my age endlessly discussing. It just... most of the time I didn't even feel like a girl. I wasn't mannish, maybe a little tomboyish, but I just didn't have any interest in that stuff. I was busy trying to learn more about medicine and outer space and how to hit a target with one eye closed. I didn't feel any great desire to be married or have children or (god forbid) become _domestic_. I had a pretty deep nurturing instinct that Dad figured meant I would be a great doctor, but I did my best to suppress it or I tended to get tearful calls in the middle of the night from various acquaintances who needed a comforting ear to listen. I didn't mind, really; everyone needed a solid shoulder sometimes.

Everyone except Butch. He was the _one_ person I couldn't see wanting help from anyone. He was always so sure of himself even when he was deeply in trouble. Nothing ever fazed him. He didn't ask for anything and he didn't blame his troubles on anyone else. He never really admitted he had troubles, to be honest. Not once did the words "my mother is an alcoholic" pass his lips in my hearing but everyone knew it. Maybe that was what started attracting me to him. His strength and self-sufficiency, which was apparent despite his distressing tendency to find new ways to torment me. God, I even fell asleep in the clinic one time and woke up wrapped in duct tape. Kind of surprising that I ever gave him the time of day when -

"Hey." Butch nudged me.

"Hm?"

"All that thinkin' ain't good for you. Cut it out."

"What makes you think I'm thinking?"

"Because you got all quiet and I can feel you frowning."

"Well... you know." I couldn't think of anything to add to that because I hadn't come to any conclusions yet. All right, that was kind of a lie. I already knew what my heart was saying deep in its subterranean levels but I was having a hard time getting my head to run with it. Everything I knew about Butch said I could be hurt pretty badly if I tried to love him.

A sigh rumbled up from his chest. "Lemme guess. You're thinkin', what now? I just had sex with Butch DeLoria an' I don't know if it was such a good idea 'cause maybe he doesn't have any feelings for me 'cause he's Butch DeLoria and just, y'know, _fucks_ girls and never talks to 'em again."

For once I was at a loss for words. I just sputtered.

"Yeah, yeah, I know that's what you were thinkin'," he said without malice. I felt his shoulders shrug. "Can't blame you."

Was this my chance to spill everything? Was he giving me an opening? I didn't know if I was ready yet, I was still reeling from the fact that he knew precisely what my train of thought was. Was I that transparent?

"Jesus Kate, are you gonna make me say it first? At this rate I'm gonna be lyin' here with you until this rust bucket floats again waiting for you to say something. Fine, I guess I have to be the one to grow some balls."

He shifted his weight and then rolled us so he was on top. He pushed my hair away from my face gently and framed my cheeks with his hands. I kept silent, hardly daring to hope I might hear what I wanted, _needed_, to hear. If I spoke now I might spook him like a wild animal.

"See, thing is... actually..." His hands loosened a little and suddenly he felt like he was pulling away from me somehow. "I uh, don't think I feel so good."

Immediately I freed one hand to feel his forehead. He was a little on the warm side. "How so?"

"Kinda... y'know. Not so hot." His expression wasn't cocky or gratified or nervous anymore, in fact he was looking a little pale.

Suddenly I was swamped with guilt. Instead of waking up and making sure he had some more water and the rest of the Rad-Away, and some decent food and clothing, I had jumped his bones like a dog in heat. _Worst medic ever._

"Stay put, I'll get some water." He eased to the side and I clambered off the bed and went to rummage in the fridge. After some thought I decided he didn't need an IV line, so I just distributed the leftover half bag of meds into some water. He needed fluids more than anything, probably. _Yeah, considering the fluids you just made him lose._

Butch was sitting up now, the blanket draped over his hips and his arms resting on his knees. From back here it was easy to see the tightness around his eyes, the faint bruising on his upper arms that I hadn't noticed before. Once again wondering what had happened to him out there, I passed him the first bottle and set the rest on the floor beside the bed, then perched beside him.

"First things first, we need some breakfast. After that we can head down to the Marketplace and see what we can find for you to wear. Then maybe..." I stopped there. I had been about to suggest weapons, but I realised I was making some major assumptions. Such as that Butch would want to come with me, wherever I headed next. Or that maybe he'd want to come with me for the long term. We hadn't even properly talked yet and here I was trying to outfit him so he would be able to survive in my world. And I was making assumptions about what he'd been about to tell me.

"I told you, Kate. I don't got any caps." He set the first bottle down and opened another, performing the task grimly and without looking at me. Suddenly the room felt cooler. I had the feeling that no matter what I said I was going to injure his pride but it couldn't be helped.

"It doesn't matter, I have plenty. I'm not really saving them for anything special."

"Yeah, well, I ain't your fuckin' charity case, okay? I made it here, didn't I? I can find work somewhere. Cuttin' hair if I have to."

I was shocked at his sudden change in demeanour. But not too shocked to feel anger rise in my throat. "This isn't charity, Butch, and it's stupid to think I'm doing this because I feel sorry for you. You need gear before you go anywhere or do anything. That's just the way it is."

"Oh, so I'm stupid now? Dumb ol' Butch, is that it? Maybe I ain't as smart as you, poindexter, but I can sure as hell survive on my own out there. I don't need some _girl_ takin' care of me."

I was too outraged to be hurt. "What are you, _nine?_ Listen to me, meathead, I'm not 'taking care' of you. You were sick half to death so I got you some medicine. Now WE are going to find you some gear so YOU can be protected and well-armed because that is what it TAKES to survive more than a day out there. You should know that better than anybody after your trip to this damn boat!"

"The fuck do you care, anyway? You don't need me." He flung an empty bottle across the room, looking disgusted with himself.

There it was. That was his problem. I'd had to save him but I didn't need him to save me. I could take care of myself, had been doing so for a long time, but he needed my help just to get started. He had no gear and no money, no place to live, no contacts. He was powerless out here, at least for now.

I sat and looked at him, my anger suddenly deflated. Did he really want to hear me say I needed him? I did. I needed him more than he could possibly understand. And it looked like I would have to be the first to admit it. Some part of me wondered if soothing his wounded male ego was going to get old fast but I dismissed the thought.

"Do you remember," I said quietly, "that time Wally stuck me in one of the time-lock freezers on the lower level?" Butch didn't nod or reply or look at me. "You remember how when he told you about it three hours later you came down and fried the controls to get the door open? How much trouble you got in because they blamed you for both putting me in there and 'damaging Vault property'?" His eyes flicked to mine briefly, then back again. "I do. I remember you taking off your shirt and jacket, the most chivalrous little fourteen year old kid in the world for about two minutes, and making me wear them so I could get warm again. I remember how I tried to tell them it wasn't you, but the more I explained the less the Overseer wanted to hear because he hated me even more than he hated you, and you were under house arrest for two weeks. But you never," I said, emphasizing my point by poking his chest, "blamed me for it. You didn't get angry at me or set up some scheme to get me back. And I certainly didn't get angry at you for rescuing me."

Now he looked at me, his brows drawn and his lip very slightly lifted in what might have been a dismissive sneer. But I continued anyway. "You looked out for me then, Butch. I know there were other times too. I know you and your gang could've made my life a lot worse than you did, but you deflected them sometimes. Well now I'm looking out for you, at least until you get on your feet. Consider it a debt repaid."

Now the sneer faded and a sort of grudging acceptance came over his face. I knew I had won when he twisted his mouth as he did when he didn't like something but had to admit it had merit. I waited for him to say something, wanting to touch him but keeping very still.

Finally he sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair, which was wilder than ever after the dickens we'd been up to. _Good god, you are lame. Dickens?_ He looked steadily at me, those blue eyes seeming to search my own.

"Maybe you got a point. _Maybe_." I started to open my mouth but he held up a finger to forestall me. "I can't talk about this on an empty stomach. I'm starving, man. Where do we go for some chow?" Trust Butch to have found his way directly to the bar without knowing where the basic services were. But, this was a vast improvement over five minutes ago. I made to stand up but his expression suddenly changed and he grabbed my arm.

"Wait. Not yet. C'mere."

Puzzled, I sat down again. He held out his arms and I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. It was all right, I thought as I climbed into his lap. Everything was all right.

"I'm only gonna say this once so don't go gettin' all mushy and wanting to hear it all the time. I need you. I want you. I might even kinda love you a little. You're still a poindexter an' I'm probably gonna give you wedgies sometimes but that ain't how I really feel about you so don't take it personal, okay?"

"Butch, did you stay up all night writing that?"

"Shut up. Now lemme hear you say it too."

As my heart was suddenly filled to bursting with relief and love and laughter, I had no problem with that. "I need you too, meathead. And I do love you. And I'm going to really get on your nerves being good all the time."

"You always did. I can get used to it."

"So that's it? We're... you know..."

"Yep. We are." He rested his chin on top of my head. "But I can't talk about this girly crap anymore. You done bein' all emotional so we can go get some breakfast?"

"Oh my _god._" He laughed as I elbowed him. "All right, all right. You could use a few squares a day, and I am starving. We'll go to Gary's Galley and then we can make a serious dent in the Marketplace. I can't wait to dress you up at Bannon's."

"Oh _Christ._" He pushed me gently to my feet and I started to rummage for clothing on the floor and in my sadly depleted trunk. Butch stood and stretched and I took the opportunity to admire the view as I pulled on some boots.

"Man, I can't wait to get some bacon and eggs. They got coffee there, you think?"

_Oh boy._


	6. Paved With Good Intentions

**Note:** Again with the delay! Actually I have a real honest to god excuse this time; I kind of wrote chapter 7 first. It turned out kind of gigantic so I think it's going to be chapters 7/8 instead. This current chapter also took some directions that surprised me as I wrote them so it took a while to get through. I need to thank my Secret Awesome Fanfic Buddy™ Colvine for her excellent conversation and tips. If you like Harkness (and you will after reading her stories) then go read! Be amazed! Bring kleenex!

**Chapter 6**

Paved With Good Intentions

I had to admit to myself, I was really enjoying watching Butch try to swallow his squirrel chunks. He once made me eat an eraser and two pieces of paper when we were kids so this seemed like pretty decent payback. He was chewing them grimly and I decided not to tell him that squirrel was better if you just swallowed it so you didn't get so much of its unique flavour.

With professional ease I tossed back another bite of iguana, also tossing one to Dogmeat. I liked the bits over a bowl of noodles for breakfast. Iguana was actually pretty tasty when you cooked it right, kind of like sweetish chicken. Well... irradiated sweetish chicken. Then again, the chicken we had in the Vault didn't come from chickens precisely, so who knew?

"Maybe tomorrow I'll just get a couple pears. This is..." Butch wordlessly dropped the rest of the squirrel back onto his plate and stared at it. I tactfully decided to change the subject. I couldn't watch his suffering any more. The dog stared at him intently until he placed the plate on the floor.

"We might not be here tomorrow morning for breakfast. I thought maybe, if you're doing better, we could try a little trip out into the Wastes."

"What, like a practise run?" Butch scoffed. "C'mon. I know what's out there. Let's just go."

"I said _if_ you're doing better. You really need another day to rest up, at least. And I want to get some more meds into you. I think I should probably give you a little Rad-X each day for a while until your system gets used to this food and all the other stuff floating around out here."

"Fsh. Who put you in charge?"

I thumped my fist on the table, half serious and half laughing. "_I'm _the medical authority at this table and I say when you're fit to go out and get killed in the Wastelands."

"Yeah, twerp. You're only the medical authority 'cause you didn't last two days with Father Larsen and you convinced your daddy to train you as a doctor instead."

"Well where'd that stupid G.O.A.T. get the idea that I was cut out to be a chaplain??"

"Knowing you, it's cause you picked all the little miss saintly answers. Lemme guess, give the boy a hug an' tell him everything's gonna be okay?"

"Shut up. I couldn't risk ending up as a hairdresser."

"_Barber_."

"And anyway, I think Dad had... had already decided to leave." I sobered thinking about it. "He knew that he and Jonas weren't going to be there much longer, and since I was supposed to stay down there, I was the best choice to take over after he was gone."

"Well, you were always real nerdy that way," Butch said kindly. "And you liked telling people what was good for 'em."

I rolled my eyes, but I knew he was trying to turn the topic away from my dad and I was okay with that. I didn't think I was ready to tell him how it had happened. It was bad enough that Dr. Li and her assistants had seen it. I wished I could somehow remove the memories from their minds. All of these people were walking around with the image of my father dying in that purifier, and somehow it was like he died again whenever they thought of it. Dying over and over, every day, probably dozens of times. He was reeling from the sudden shock of radiation in his system, staggering to the heavy glass between us, sliding down to his knees as his body failed him, choking on the floor before finally...

I shook my head sharply to clear the images. Definitely _not_ ready to talk about it. Maybe I wouldn't ever be ready. Butch looked at me steadily with an expression I hadn't seen before, like he somehow knew what had been going through my mind. "Right, so." I cleared my throat. "You finished eating?"

He glanced at the now-shiny plate on the floor and ruffled behind Dogmeat's ears. "Yeah. This ain't food. I dunno how you can stand it."

"It's either this or starvation, so you'll get used to it. Now, you want to go find some gear?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Like I got a choice. All right, let's get it over with."

"C'mon, it'll be fun." I grabbed his hand. "It's not like you're helping me pick out a hair ribbon. This is _useful_ stuff." The nice thing about the Rivet City market was that every shop was crammed right next to all the other shops. It took us about twelve seconds to get from Gary's to Bannon's. Bannon wasn't my first choice for outfits because he tended heavily toward fashion rather than utility. But he did carry some useful stock and at the very least we could cobble something functional together from an assortment of items. None of the many spare items I kept around were likely to fit Butch, who was probably twice my size even in his underfed state. I checked my Pip-Boy's map and set a few filters. It looked like Crow's caravan wouldn't be passing this way for several days yet. He was the man to see if you wanted really excellent protection. His conversation was also refreshingly weird.

Then I saw who was closest to Rivet City along the caravan route and I couldn't help but smile. _Just the man I need._

Bannon's unctuous greeting reached me. "Ahh, Kate. The very customer I was hoping to see. Why, I was just talking to Vera about you, such an excellent eye for quality garments. It's so rare to see here."

If I had a cap for every time he said that... I truly disliked Bannon. He was oily and conniving and was probably also talking to Vera about my unplucked eyebrows or filthy dog or something equally stupid. But I put on a fine show of being a person of discriminating tastes, and I did it so well that he gave me a discount as well as first shot at any armour that came in. It just meant I had to occasionally listen to him bemoan the lesser beings that surrounded him on this boat, as well as give his ego a little stroke now and then. Considering how easy it was to keep him happy and how much his happiness benefitted my quest to stay alive, it was a fairly small price to pay.

"Bannon. It's a pleasure as always. You know I wouldn't dream of shopping anywhere else." I kept my voice smooth and just a little haughty. Beside me I could actually feel Butch's hackles rising and before he could come out with something rude and hilarious, I tucked my hand through his arm and brought him a step forward. "It's business today, I'm afraid. I'd like you to meet Butch. We grew up together in the Vault." All very serious and proper. I thought my face might break from the effort not to laugh; I'd never had to do this with an audience before.

"Butch. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." Bannon extended his hand but Butch just stared at it as if it was covered in radscorpion venom.

I discreetly stepped on his toe. Hard. _Please don't ruin my discount..._

"Uh. Yeah. Meet you too." Butch shook his hand quickly. I could feel his stare burning a hole in my head but I ignored it. If he didn't like my survival skills that was too bad. You caught more flies with honey than with vinegar, and you got more information and discounts by tailoring your attitude to match who you were talking with. I was always happy with methods that let me avoid having to shoot people.

"What have you got for heavier gear right now? Anything leather, reinforced canvas, maybe some plating?"

Bannon turned to start digging out various garments and I took the opportunity to meet Butch's gaze. His lip and one eyebrow were lifted so I dug my elbow into his ribs and mouthed the words '_shut up!'_.

He gave me this incredulous look and gestured at Bannon's back. '_What the fuck?'_

I did my best not to burst out laughing, instead rearranging my face back into its previous bored hauteur. It didn't take long for Bannon to bring out the few useful items he had as well as an armful of pre-war fashions that were completely useless, though he would undoubtedly try to sell them to us. Just before he turned around I pushed a leather pouch of caps into Butch's hand. I really just wanted to get this process started and make it clear that any favours to me also extended to Butch. I'd thought about it during breakfast and decided that he wouldn't appreciate having to stand there like a mannequin while I haggled gear for him.

"Now that you boys have met, I'm going to take Dogmeat outside and get some fresh air while you get everything settled." On impulse, because I figured it would give the right impression, and mostly because I really wanted to, I stood on my toes to give Butch a quick kiss on his stubbly cheek.

But he surprised me by turning his head so his lips met mine. _Oh my. _I couldn't resist such a tempting offer and I promptly forgot about our surroundings, in fact forgot about everything except the taste and feel of him. I gripped his t-shirt and brought his head down closer to mine, felt him grin against my mouth. His arms came around my waist and I bit his lower lip in approval.

"Kate," he murmured, laughter in his voice.

"Mm hm." Maybe after this we could head back to the hotel room. I mean, it wasn't as if the Wastes were going anywhere.

"Kate."

"Mmmhh... be quiet."

Suddenly I was hauled up off the ground and I found my legs were wrapped around his waist and his hands were beneath my butt. _Oh, this is WAY better._ Now I was starving for him. It felt as if I'd been dry and starving all of my life. I'd been so unbelievably lonely out here, more than I'd ever realised judging by how intensely I needed to smell his skin, feel his hair through my fingers, breathe in his warmth and his aliveness. And this wasn't just anyone. This was Butch. The one I'd been silently waiting for since I'd realised there was more to life than the Vault or books about outer space or rules about good girls liking bad boys.

"I gotta - get this done so - we can - and then-" He was trying to talk between kisses and I was doing my best to shut him up so he could concentrate on kissing me and also trying to squeeze him closer with my thighs so I could rub against him but then I heard a disapproving cough behind me. _Oh, Bannon. I am going to murder you in your sleep tonight._

I slid down Butch as gracefully as I could but stepped on his toes anyway. "Uh. So I'll, you know. Outside with Dogmeat." Butch's hand came out and patted my backside fondly, which caused me to trip over my own feet as I turned to go. _Hell,_ I thought as I increased my pace and almost dashed to the exit. _There goes my discount._ I sneaked a glance behind me when I reached the door and Butch's smug grin told me I'd better just keep going.

It was bright but much cooler today than the stifling heat of the day before. On impulse I clapped my hands at my canine buddy.

"C'mon boy, I'll race you to the bottom of the ramp!"

I took off, my boots making wonderful clanking noises on the grated steel as I flew along the walkway. Dogmeat zipped past me in seconds, his tongue a flapping pink banner in the wind. I grabbed the railing as I hit the ramp and leapt down the last couple of feet to try and get ahead but Dogmeat made this crazy twist in midair and scrambled out onto the dirt. As I landed and a sharp pain shot through my leg I realised that racing around like a lunatic wasn't the best way to express my current excellent mood. Once I was down at ground level I stopped to catch my breath and rolled up my pant leg to check on my mirelurk wound. It was a little red and sore but mostly healed, and my antics hadn't opened the stitches. I could probably wheedle Doc Preston into taking them out tomorrow.

Dogmeat, who usually wasn't outgoing, was tearing around in little circles and yipping like a puppy. I burst out laughing and dove on him, turning it into a snarling, growling wrestling match. I was clearly outmatched and ended up on my back, laughing so hard I was crying and gasping for air, with a pair of slobbery dog jaws clamped on my throat.

"All right, all right, you win!" I pushed on his chest and sat up when he backed off. I could've sworn he was grinning at me as he sat back on his haunches. I truly loved this furry doofus who had saved my life more times than I could clearly remember.

Suddenly the furry doofus stood and his whole demeanour changed. He took two steps, his body arrow straight and his nose extended into the wind. I turned and looked off into the distance in the direction he was pointed but I couldn't see anything along the river. Just the murky water on the left and the ruined buildings on the right. I could see the bow section of Rivet City from here but the mirelurks weren't in evidence. They rarely came outside the structure anyway. Despite the appearance of normality something had clearly caught Dogmeat's attention and I knew better than to dismiss his warning stance.

I stood and brushed off my pants. "Show me what's out there, buddy." He began to trot to the northwest, along the river's edge, and I followed at a measured pace. I didn't want to stumble into something unprepared as I was so I scanned the area constantly, looking for movement or out of place colours.

Off in the distance I could see the great barrier fields that the Enclave had erected around the Jefferson Memorial. Since fleeing that building I had firmly ignored their presence at Project Purity. The purifier didn't work. Nobody had a G.E.C.K. The Project was as dead as my father and I had no desire to speak to or see the Brotherhood of Steel, who were undoubtedly getting antsier the longer I avoided them. Whatever fight they wanted to pick with the Enclave was their business now, and if they wanted to fight over a non-functioning purifier they were welcome to do so. My happiness evaporated as I pictured Lyons pacing the halls of his Citadel.

I sure hoped Dogmeat wasn't homing in on some Enclave patrol. But I'd never seen them outside of the Memorial's fields and they never approached Rivet City. I assumed they were spread as thin as the Brotherhood and would stick close to their hard-won prize, hovering over it like a broody hen with an egg that wouldn't hatch. Still, I kept one eye glued to the energy fields that glimmered faintly in the sunlight.

That was when I noticed the smoke drifting out from the DC side. It seemed to be coming from an area where I'd encountered small groups of super mutants. They'd fortified a rise of road and concrete with barbed wire and twisted metal girders. I never understood how they shaped the metal like that but it was distinctive and made a good warning sign from a distance. One of the Brothers at the Citadel claimed he'd seen them bending it with their bare hands, but nothing could be that strong, could it?

I had cleaned out this area three times but they seemed to use it as some kind of way station or staging point. Every time I'd gone up there it was stocked with ammo and those horrifying net bags of body parts that they kept as food. The super mutants, like the Enclave, never approached Rivet City. The city's security force didn't come out this far either. They liked to keep their feet on the metal deck plates and didn't concern themselves too much with what happened outside. No, that fell to me to deal with. I often wondered if it bothered them, sending a lone twenty year old woman with a dog and an antiquated laser rifle to do jobs that should rightfully have called for an entire troop of armed people.

Speaking of laser rifles, I realised I was going to have to creep cautiously closer from here on in because I hadn't brought mine with me. I put my hand out, palm down, which was Dogmeat's signal to stay low and quiet. Together we clung to the broken concrete and rebar as we got closer to the source of the smoke. Sure enough, I caught a glimpse of sickly yellowish skin up on the lookout that jutted over their little fortress. Dogmeat had this unerring sense when those freakish beasts were near. It was like he had their scent or their pheremones or something programmed into him.

The fur around his neck lifted and a low growl began to rumble through his body. I put a warning hand on his back as he took a slow step toward the encampment, knowing he would rush in and attack if I didn't stop him. Once I knew what to expect we would go back to the city and get geared up. And...

I thought about Butch. And I thought about Butch being involved in this. And I thought about Butch getting hurt. Maybe I wouldn't tell him where I was going. I could get him settled back in the hotel room with his purchases, tell him to work on piecing some armour together, give him some story about going out to meet a merchant or something. I could give him some more Rad-Away and he'd get sleepy, probably nap for a few hours, and I could come back when I was done like nothing had happened.

Suddenly I put my hands over my face and groaned. Was I seriously considering _drugging Butch_ to protect him? He would never, ever forgive me. And he would be right not to do so. What I was considering was a terrible breach of trust. Even the risk of him being injured didn't justify such a thing. Like it or not he was out here with me now. Things like violence and sickness and injury and even death occurred on a daily basis. He'd obviously had his own trials after escaping the Vault - which I had yet to pry out of him - so he knew this as well as I did. He'd accepted the risks, and knowing Butch he even welcomed them. He was stubborn and tough and stupid and generally looked for fights. There would be no shortage of those if he was going to travel with me.

I couldn't keep him out of harm's way and he would end up hating me if I tried. All I could do was watch his back. I loved him as he was, with all of his many, _many_ flaws, that dumb Tunnel Snake I could just _strangle_ him... and I would bring him to this place and together we were going to deal with those super mutants.

I sighed and accepted the new way of things. This was going to be a major change for both of us and I supposed now was as good a time as any to start getting used to it. So I took the opportunity to count the uglies - three of them - and watch what they were doing - standing sentry, apparently. I could see two with rifles and one on the lookout with what I was sure was a minigun. Not encouraging, but at distances miniguns were inaccurate. That one we would pick off first. I grabbed a handful of Dogmeat's fur and gave it a gentle tug, signalling him to pay attention and come with me. Reluctantly he turned and we began to lope silently back to Rivet City. Thoughts of what I was going to say tumbled through my head as I ran, as well as one last wistful desire to lock Butch into the room. Bah. He'd just pick the door anyway.

By the time I'd hustled up the ramp and back into the Marketplace, Butch was nowhere to be found. Bannon's feathers looked decidedly ruffled and I ducked around the corner to the stairwell to avoid speaking to him. Sure enough Butch was back in the hotel room and he had a pile of purchases spread out over the bed. When I closed the door behind me he looked up and immediately threw his hands in the air.

"What's the big deal, leaving me with that bitchy windbag? You know what I had to listen to while you were gone? It was _torture_! I almost knocked that guy on his ass. Y'know what he said to me? He said he hoped some of your "refinement" would rub off on me. Like I ain't refined." He stabbed a finger at the pile of clothes. "_And_ he said he only wanted to deal with you after this. Like I'd wanna talk to that turd again."

"What exactly did you say to him?"

"I called him a bitchy windbag. Guess he didn't like that too much. But I only called him that _after_ I paid for everything." He tapped the side of his head and grinned. "I'm smart like that."

"You're..." I shook my head at him, laughing. Had I laughed so much before? I didn't think so. "I had to work at getting that discount, you know. Did he give it to you?"

"Oh yeah, and then some. I mighta hinted that you learned how to shoot from me. I also mighta hinted that you learned how to be nice from someone else."

"_Butch!_" He dodged as I winged a pillow at him. "I'm serious, you have to be diplomatic with Bannon or you won't get anywhere with him. And I'll have to pay full price. I hate paying full price."

He made a disgusted face. "That was pretty sick, y'know. How you were actin' back there. You learn to stick your nose in the air like that from Amata?"

That kind of hurt. "No, ass. I learned it from Bannon. All he wants is a mirror to see his own reflection, so that's what I give him. I _could _swagger in there with a switchblade and grease in my hair and be all _gimme a discount 'cause Tunnel Snakes rule!_ And I could, I don't know, _loiter_ until he gave in. But my way is efficient, peaceful, and most of all it works every time."

"So you just run around pretendin' to be someone different with every merchant you meet, gettin' a few caps off here and there by lying to 'em? That's pretty sleazy."

"I'm not _sleazy_ and that isn't what I do! Just because _you_ don't have any concept of mmf-"

And suddenly we were both on the bed, wrestling with boots and belts and pants, growling and panting like animals as we each struggled for control. I had a brief moment of sanity where I wondered how he'd tackled me so quickly, but this was overtaken by a brief moment of triumph when I gripped the hair on his chest and pushed him onto his back. My crow of victory turned into an incoherent gurgle when he thrust up into me.

Then I was the one beneath him, my hands pinned above my head, my legs around his waist as he drove again and again and _oh_...

For many long minutes afterward, I lay floating in the warm darkness behind my eyelids, listening to my heart slowly return to a normal pace. Listening to Butch's heart also slow in time with mine. He was crushing me into the lumpy mattress and it felt so good I decided I probably didn't need oxygen as much as I'd always thought I did. Having someone else's skin pressed to mine, head to toe, was more delicious than any daydream. Usually I didn't much care for being sticky but I could get used to this.

Butch raised his head and slowly grinned down at me. "Glad we settled that, girl."

"Settled what?"

"Whatever we were talkin' about."

"Okay." I pulled his head back down into the hollow of my shoulder, smiling in a really goofy way because every inch of me was glowing and I had no idea what we'd been talking about, so it probably didn't matter. Then I remembered the super mutants. "Hell," I muttered under my breath as the glow vanished.

"S'up?"

"Well, it's like this..."

Twenty minutes later I was dressed and armoured in the sturdy leather gear I'd been sporting almost from the time I'd first stepped blinking into the sunlight. I liked it because it was durable, quiet and had lots of places to hang and store my belongings. I'd added a few metal plates here and there for extra protection, like on my forearms and thighs, for deflecting knives or clubs in the unlikely event I got up close and personal with something. I really, really didn't like up close and personal. If it ever came to fisticuffs between me and some filthy Raider strung out on Psycho, Three Dog was going to be reporting my untimely demise the next day.

"It's been a long time since I punched somebody, y'know?" Butch's grin was feral as he studied the spiked knuckles now gracing his fists. He said they were "just in case" but I knew he was itching to try them out. A baseball bat was strapped across his back and an empty holster sat at his hip. I'd told him we were going to fix that as soon as we were ready to go. From Bannon's shop he'd actually managed to find an assortment of metal gear and now his shoulders and wrists bristled with intimidating (but probably useless) spikes. He clanked a little when he moved but it didn't seem too heavy for him.

I sat in my corner chair next to the little desk, making some minute adjustments to the focus on my laser rifle. It didn't really need adjusting but it gave my hands something to do while I watched Butch getting ready. He seemed to be enjoying himself immensely now that there was some action to look forward to. I wondered if he'd still be enjoying himself when he saw what was cooking over that bonfire on the lookout.

Dogmeat, who had disdainfully retreated to a corner when we'd hit the bed together, was pacing in front of the door. I kept him in the room; he almost always listened to me but once or twice he'd been so eager to hurl himself into a fight that he'd run off without me and I'd had to save his furry butt.

"Well, we gonna get this show on the road?" Butch was almost hopping in place. Despite my misgivings I had to chuckle. That boyish eagerness was a side of him I'd rarely gotten to see but loved to pieces.

"Yep. If he's on time," I said, tapping at my Pip-Boy, "then I'm going to buy you a birthday present."

"My birthday ain't til December."

"I didn't get you anything last year so be quiet about it. Happy birthday."

"Uh huh. What'd you get me?"

"Nothing yet. But let's head outside and see what we can see." I smiled widely at him. I _knew_ he was going to like what I had in mind.

The three of us tramped down the hallway and through the stairwell to the outside. Truth be told I was kind of excited about this excursion. It really was nice to finally have some human company, to be able to share the burden with someone. I started to think of all the possibilities rather than just the dangers. All of the places we could travel, watching each others' backs. There were other Vaults out there that needed discovering and exploring. Much of the ruins of DC I'd never seen; there was too much out in the Wastes to risk my neck over without increasing the chances of having it severed in that deathtrap.

When I stepped outside Butch kind of hesitated. He glanced up at the sky like he was looking for rain then quickly looked down again. Thinking the sun bothered his eyes, I pulled a pair of shades out of a pocket and handed them to him. He mumbled something resembling a thanks and slipped them on.

Down at the bottom of the ramp was a loaded brahmin, a merc in leathers, and a familiar yellow jumpsuit that made me break into a huge smile.

"Harith!" I trotted down the last few steps and gave the caravaner a big bear hug and a kiss on both cheeks. "My favourite gun-toting maniac, and right on time."

"Toting guns, missiles, bombs, equalizers in every colour of the rainbow." He wiped both cheeks off with an exaggerated gesture. "Though apparently not enough firepower to keep you from slobbering all over me. You must be after something special."

"Good guess." I winked. "Harith, this is Butch DeLoria. He's from Vault 101 too, newly escaped. Butch, this is Lucky Harith. He's the finest arms dealer in the Capital Wasteland." I wondered briefly how I was supposed to introduce Butch. My boyfriend? Ugh, way too cheesy. My... friend? He'd probably think I was trying to keep us a secret. Fellow Vault Dweller? Three Dog would love that one.

"Arms, huh? Whaddya got?"

"My escapee friend, the question to ask is 'what do I don't got'. And the answer is, 'nothing'." Harith tilted his head at me. "Our mutual acquaintance here had enough of a vested interest in my maintaining an impressive array of armaments that she saw fit to help me expand my inventory. As a result, if I don't carry it, it doesn't exist." He started to unclip rolls and flaps from his brahmin's enormous load and soon the poor creature looked like a bristling armoury with udders. Butch's eyes lit up like it was Christmas.

While he bent to have a closer look at Harith's stock I looked at Harith and held up four fingers on each hand. He raised his eyebrows in question and held his thumb and forefinger in a circle up to one eye. I nodded, feeling enormously pleased as he dug through a pack on the brahmin's rump and came up with a carefully wrapped package.

"I might have just the thing to answer the call of your heart, Mister DeLoria. This beautiful lady has been waiting for the right pair of hands to make her sing." Harith slowly pulled back the layers of canvas until he'd revealed a gorgeous old .44 Magnum with a light scope resting along the barrel. Handguns weren't my weapon of choice, and the Magnum had way too much kick for me even if they were, but I could still appreciate this particular gun. Judging by the almost reverent way Butch handled it, he could too.

"Oh baby. I think you an' me are gonna get along just fine."

So Butch got his belated birthday present - in excellent condition, too - and I got the satisfaction of a long, leisurely kiss on the pavement with Harith's guard catcalling. And then we were on our way to dispose of a nest of super mutants.

I did my best to fill Butch in on what to expect when we got there and how we should approach the situation.

"Since you're the one with the scope, you'll take out the big one with the minigun."

"Minigun?"

"Yeah, it's kind of the opposite of its name. Big, stupid, noisy monstrosity that fires I don't even know how many rounds a second. Most of them miss."

"I bet I could use that. We should grab it once the mutant is dead."

"Are you tired of your Magnum already?"

"Nah, I just like variety, y'know?" He gave me his cocky grin. "Anyway, I bet we could sell that thing for a load of caps."

"Definitely. Speaking of caps... what about a 'you kill it, you get the loot' rule? Since there's two of us now."

"Sure thing. I promise not to steal all your kills or let you starve when you go broke 'cause I stole all your kills."

I punched his arm. "Now listen, they're not pretty. Super mutants, I mean. They..." I hesitated. "They eat us, you know. People. Some of us they keep and take away somewhere. Nobody really knows where they go but they don't come back." I shaded my eyes as I gauged how far we had to walk yet. "So it's all right if you're sick when you see what's up there. Just try not to be sick until they're all dead."

"Jeeeezus, Kate. Will you lay off? You're takin' all the fun outta this." Butch pulled a pack of cigarettes out of a pocket and lit one. "What's next, you gonna remind me to put on clean underwear in case the medics need to take my clothes off?"

"_Is_ your underwear clean?" I asked seriously. He looked horrified.

I cracked up.

"You are so full of shit, you know that?" Butch took a drag of his cigarette and stubbed out the end on the wall beside him, then tucked the rest of it back into his pocket for later. I decided to wait until this was over before I told him what a disgusting habit smoking was and how much I did _not_ want to kiss an ashtray.

"All right. We go in quietly from here. We'll set up from that pile of bricks with the window frame on top. Remember, if we're close enough to see them they can see us."

"For christ's sake, I know how _eyeballs_ work. And I've seen super mutants before."

"You have?" I was genuinely surprised.

"Yeah. I saw a couple once." Butch didn't elaborate. Maybe he'd run into a couple on his way to Rivet City, and maybe that was why he didn't seem to want to talk about his journey. Had bringing him here been a bad idea? I couldn't tell. He didn't seem overly bothered by them.

"Okay, well. You get the first shot on the big one standing sentry. That's the important kill."

"Yeah, yeah."

We crept closer, hugging the cement. Dogmeat slunk just ahead of us and I kept my fingertips on his rump to keep him from charging. As we got closer I got the familiar tightening in my stomach. It meant I was heading into the kind of situation my head said I should be running away from. I wondered if Butch got that. Probably not. Maybe I should keep one hand on his rump too, to keep him from charging in. I coughed to hide a laugh.

"Hey, what's that thing up ahead?" Butch whispered and pointed to the energy barrier around the Jefferson Memorial. My chest tightened.

"That's nothing. It isn't important." I heard the hard edge to my voice but couldn't keep it out.

"Doesn't look like nothing. Looks pretty freaky and high-tech. I wonder how it works. Bet if I got close enough I could open up one of those generators and see how they do it."

"It would _fry_ you. We aren't getting close to it." I clamped my jaws together and moved steadily forward, wishing he wasn't so interested in that abominable fence the fucking Enclave had put up around that fucking Purifier...

"Hey. I dunno what that has to do with your dad, but don't take it out on me, okay?"

How could a stupid Tunnel Snake be that astute? "Sorry," I mumbled, not really feeling sorry at all.

"It's fine."

We reached our spot, moving so cautiously the last few feet that I had to hold my breath. When we carefully knelt into position I made Dogmeat sit and pulled my laser rifle forward. The big one was still out on the lookout, staring over the Potomac in the general direction of the bow section. Another was tying up a net bag on the ramp to the left, and the third was well back behind them, almost hidden. I leaned so that my lips were almost touching Butch's ear.

"Headshot for the big one. I'll take the one on the left at the same time. The third'll come out, probably down the ramp. Those two have rifles. Ready?"

Butch gave a short nod, then gripped the revolver in both hands and rested it against the protruding brick. He used the scope to line up his shot and while he did I gripped my own rifle, carefully tracking the head of my target. I hoped it would stay busy with the net long enough for me to zap a hole through its skull with a minimum of fuss.

Suddenly Butch hissed an indrawn breath. "Shit. You didn't tell me they had somebody up there."

I turned my gaze to where he was looking. There, kneeling on the lookout, was a man with his hands trussed behind his back. From here it was hard to tell but he looked pretty battered. My heart sank. The man hadn't been there earlier. This made our mission more urgent and infinitely more dangerous. One misplaced shot...

"Get ready. I'm taking the shot." Butch's voice was colder than I'd ever heard it before. All of the humour that usually lurked below the surface was gone.

"Are you sure you-"

"_Get ready._"

I had to obey when he spoke like that, or I was going to miss my own shot. Sighting along the rifle, I waited.

"Now."

A bolt of red energy crackled through the air the instant before Butch's .44 thundered off the buildings around us. My mutant went down instantly, its head black and charred. I turned quickly to see Butch's own mutant topple slowly backward into the bonfire, the top of its skull torn clean off. The man kneeling cried out and shied away.

Suddenly Butch bounced to his feet and began to tear off up the ramp. Dogmeat bounded after him, quickly overtaking him and barrelling like a compact freight train straight into the third mutant. It bellowed in pain as the dog's teeth ripped into its flank and it brought a hunting rifle down like a club.

_Boom. Boom - boom._ Three shots fired in quick succession and the mutant went down, Dogmeat still tearing at it. Butch advanced on the thing as I caught up, firing two more shots into the bloody ruin of its head. There was something wrong with his eyes and when I got closer I saw they were watering.

"Butch!" I grabbed his shoulder. "It's dead, stop!"

He shook me off. "That guy... they were gonna take him." He pelted the rest of the way up the ramp and out onto the cement ledge where the captive was now huddled against one of the steel girders, as far away from the dead and rapidly charring mutant as he could get.

"Help!" he cried raggedly when he saw us. "Please, oh my god..." Butch dropped to his knees beside the man and flicked out his switchblade to saw apart the ropes binding his wrists. He was young, maybe our age, but the dirt and sweat streaked over his face made him seem older. One eye was swollen shut and through a rent in his shirt I could see an abraded wound.

"Thank you... thank you... are there more? Did you get them all?" He looked wildly around.

"There were three and they're all dead," I said. Butch finished cutting the ropes. "You're hurt. Let me take a look at your side."

"No, it's... I need to get out of here! Just let me go!" The man tried to heave himself to his feet but he fell back again.

"Easy, pal. Just let her take a look at you. Rivet City ain't far, and as soon as she's done you can head there and be safe. It's clear sailing all the way." Butch held his hand on the man's shoulder and looked him in the eye. As I pulled a few stimpaks out of my belt bag I silently wondered was going on in Butch's head.

The man, whose name was Rickard, had a nasty bruise on his ribs and several deep lacerations on his wrists from the cruelly tied ropes. I made judicious use of the stimpaks and finished with a shot of Med-X to see that he got to his destination. He drank from a bottle of water while I tended to him, talking hesitantly, his words stopping and starting as he told us what had happened to him. It was a story I'd heard before: small, unguarded settlement. Raided by mutants. Most killed, several eaten, the rest taken away. Rickard didn't know where the others were or where they were taking him. He heard the mutants talking about "making more of them" but he didn't know what it meant. He was, in short, extremely lucky to be alive.

"Thank you," he coughed out one last time once he was on his feet. "I won't forget this. I..." Then he turned and began to hobble as quickly as he could toward Rivet City. We stood and watched him go.

"They had him tied up and they were gonna take him," Butch said again.

"I know, he-"

He cut me off. "You know about Paradise Falls?"

I was baffled at this change in direction. "Well, yes, I-"

"Then why haven't you _done_ something about it?" he yelled at me. "How the fuck can you be walking around on that cushy boat making nice with snobby assholes and bein' all buddy-buddy with those sorry excuses for security guards when that place is still _standing_? You run around with your goddamn pet _dog_ acting all nice to people without _doing_ anything!"

I stood numbly while he raged at me. Some distant part of me was cataloguing everything he said, every invective he hurled at me, every accusation of laziness and cowardice, and accepting it as the truth. His face was red and his eyes bloodshot and I could see that he was clearly not well yet. I probably shouldn't have brought him here. I'd just been too eager to have somebody along with me, helping me do the work. But it was too late for regrets.

I'd never even been to Paradise Falls, I reflected, as he continued to scream in my face. Of course I knew about it and of course I wanted to shut it down. But I only had two hands and one weapon and one life. Somebody always wanted something, some kind of assistance or favour or medical aid or precious object retrieved. Somebody always needed saving and I could only save the ones I could get to.

"...just some wannabe hero with no idea, you got no _idea_, what it's like for those people, with your goddamn house in Megaton and a fucking robot butler..."

I could have tried. Trying was better than doing nothing, right? Even if it killed me, I could at least have tried to free those slaves and shut down the slavers' operation. I might've pulled it off. But I'd never know because I'd done nothing. Not a thing. There were probably children in there.

"...and, and... christ, my head hurts." Butch buried his face in his hands and sank to his knees. Though I still felt nothing - not hot or cold or sad or angry, just numb - my attention automatically focussed on the greatest need and I knelt beside him. He didn't pull away as I felt his forehead and found him warmer than normal. He drew a great heaving breath, struggling not to break down. I placed a gentle hand on the back of his neck.

"You need to get back to the room and lie down. You're not well." I could barely hear my own voice, my ears ringing with numbness and silence. I was dimly aware that the sun was on its way down toward the horizon. Slowly I helped Butch to stand and together we began to walk back to the city, not bothering to search the mutants' bodies for anything useful. I couldn't feel my feet but I knew I was walking, putting one foot in front of the other automatically. Beneath my hand I could feel Butch shaking violently. Probably shock as much as any lingering illness.

When we reached the hotel room I helped him undress and get into the bed. I added some Rad-Away to a few bottles of water and instructed him to finish every drop. At least I thought I was talking; I still couldn't hear my own voice. Once he was settled and the dog was lying guard at the foot of the bed I stepped out into the hallway and shut the door. I thought he might have said my name but I was unable to respond.

One foot in front of the other. Up the stairwell. One foot in front of the other. Up stairs and stairs and more stairs. Right foot, left foot, around and around. Finally out into the evening breeze on the bridge deck, the highest accessible part of the ship. There was no security guard up here and I felt satisfied by this. There wasn't really anything up here. Just a view of the city that completely removed me from whatever was happening on the ground. The reflection of lights on water. Hollow groaning coming up from the ship's belly.

I sat at the edge where the handrail had broken away and let my feet dangle over the drop, my hands folded in my lap. It had been a bad idea to go to that place today. But I didn't know why, exactly. Because Butch was sick, maybe. Or because he was angry. Because he was hurting? Something. I didn't know.

Either way, he was right. I was a thoroughly nice, thoroughly useless person. About the only noteworthy thing I'd done was to disarm a bomb that was probably never going to go off anyway. My father had pursued his ideals across the Wastes and had given his life for them. Then I'd gone and turned my back on his dream when the Brotherhood asked for my help. I'd run away and hidden like a frightened child, occupying myself with meaningless busy work so I didn't have to think about the responsibility looming behind me like my own shadow.

Well... it wasn't too late. I could go back to the Citadel and talk to Elder Lyons, see what he needed me to do. While I couldn't imagine what use I could be at this point, there was clearly something he wanted from me. Every few days a message arrived for me and I locked it away, unopened and ignored.

I could even go now. It was still light out and the Citadel wasn't that far away. But I didn't move. I shuffled sideways until I was leaning against the bridge house, my boots still hanging over the ledge. The air up here seemed cleaner somehow and I closed my eyes, letting it dry the sweat from my face and hair. I still felt nothing.

Tomorrow, then.

And I would go alone.


	7. Nobody Here But Us Tunnel Snakes

**Note:** You remember that first time you ever stepped out of Vault 101? The open sky, all those things you saw? I wanted to put my feet in Butch's boots and try to see every detail as he might have. It seemed to work better when I wrote it like it was happening as I went. There was no way he was ever going to talk to the LW about his travels between 101 and Rivet City. Having his own couple of chapters was the only way the story could get properly told. I sure hope this worked!

**Chapter Seven  
**Nobody Here But Us Tunnel Snakes

Y'know what? I ain't stupid. I know she wants to know what happened. I can see it on the tip of her tongue every time she looks at me. And I know she knows that _I _know she knows, and she knows I ain't gonna tell her. It's bad enough I gotta think about it all the time. I've been having these dreams too - well, nightmares I guess. If I tell her she's just gonna get all sad and I fucking _hate it_ when people think they gotta pity me. So piss on it. I ain't gonna tell her.

Besides, if I'm thinkin' about what happened I don't have to think about the look on her face when I was screaming at her today. Christ. What've I done?

* * * * *

"Screw you suckers! I _told_ you nobody could keep Butch locked up!" I flip the bestest, baddest double bird I can as I face the closing vault door for the last time. Trust those assholes not to even follow me out to the entrance. Probably wet their pants even thinking about it.

Just to make sure nobody's coming after me I watch the door seal shut. It's loud as hell and the metal throws sparks where it grinds against the frame. I don't feel a goddamn thing right now. I don't feel like I'm leaving my home or my family or friends. Shit, my mom probably won't even notice I'm gone 'til tomorrow morning when nobody's there to make sure she gets out of bed and eats something. Whatever. She can take care of herself from now on. I got bigger fish to fry.

Still, I kinda watch the door for another minute, wondering if maybe she does know I'm gone. Maybe they told her I ran. Maybe she's on the other side right now, pounding on the metal, drunk and crying and begging me to forgive her like it's Sunday morning and she sorta remembers what she did the night before. I can't fucking think about it anymore or I'm gonna start having second thoughts. I put in my time. I'm done now. _Right._

I check to make sure my jacket's zipped up halfway and my hair's all right. Gotta look good when I land on the Outside, you know? Ah, who am I kidding. When _she _came back she was all dirty and sunburnt from being out there for so long. Her clothes were so stiff they coulda walked by themselves. And she kinda stank. I probably shouldn't give a rat's ass what I look like. She said nobody had time to pay attention to stuff like that up top. Too busy surviving.

And that's gonna be me in about thirty seconds. Up top, surviving. I'd feel better about it if I had my stuff with me but when opportunity knocks, you gotta let it in or miss the visit. I just didn't get time to run back to my room. And I don't plan on missing _anything_ from now on.

Except her. I miss that twerp, and she's only been gone again for what, maybe two days? Two days we coulda been really tearing up the Outside. I was supposed to go with her. Mack - that royal _fuck_ - tried to tell me she just left after fixing up the Vault. But Amata, well, maybe she felt guilty for being such a bitch her whole life. She told me the truth. That she'd kicked her out and kept me in. Didn't give her any choice in the matter, just hustled her out the door like she had some sorta disease. Man, I haven't hit a girl in years but I almost popped Amata one when I heard that.

Did Doc's kid try and get them to let me go? I dunno. I keep asking myself the same questions over and over and it's driving me nuts. Did she really mean it when she said she wanted me to come with her? I tell myself _of course she did, numb nuts. You two've been talking about going topside for years_. I mean, if it wasn't for my mom and those _roaches _that first time I'da been outta there faster than you could say 'screw the Overseer'. I'd already be up there with her and raising hell. Well, _I'd_ be raising hell anyway. Hell just ain't her style. But I bet I could fix that.

And I am still fucking standing at the gate to the outside, twiddling a cigarette and staring at the spaces in the wooden slats.

I push open the gate and it creaks; wonder how the hinges haven't rusted right off by now. It's dark out but there's...

Oh. Oh-God-in-heaven-Mary-mother-of-us-all.

There's _stars._

I take a few steps but I can't really feel my feet right now. It's like I left the ground. There's _stars_ up there. Millions of 'em. Billions. I can't even think. I just look and look. It's so big and so black and then I see the moon as I come around the rock face and I just about lose it. How can there be so much space out here? How could something be so... so far away? It just can't be possible. Why? Why can I feel how far away it is? How the hell can I be this small when I used to be able to put my hand up and touch the ceiling? Why aren't I falling right off this spinning rock?

I'm starting to freak out and I have to bend over, breathe in and out. No way is my first accomplishment topside gonna be fainting like Freddie Gomez in a fight. Not even with all those stars up there. All those billions of stars, billions of miles away, nothing between me and them but all that space.

Shit. Breathe in and out. You can do this, DeLoria.

Man, I really need a cigarette. I can't find the one that was in my hand, I must've dropped it. I turn on my Pip-Boy light and there it is on the ground. Not on the metal floor plates but on the _ground._ I gotta stop this. Lighting a smoke gives me something normal to do but when I breathe it in it tastes different. It tastes all... spacey. I'm getting weird again. God dammit. Are my hands shaking?

"All right," I say out loud. "Time to hustle my ass to that Megaton place." Jesus, even _speaking_ is all messed up. There's no echo or anything and the sound just kinda floats away. I use my Pip-Boy to see down the path and it leads to a broken up road. There's some busted cars here and I wonder how they got left like that. Did the people driving them get out and run when the bombs dropped? Christ, I can't even look up or I get all dizzy. I just keep my eyes on the road in front of me and follow it down to the burnt out buildings that make up Springvale.

It's so _weird_ seeing the whole thing. I know the layout from the maps she found and copied for me but the maps couldn't show all this. Not those frames sticking up like bones or the kid's tricycle rusting beside a suitcase. People used to live here. For all I know, my family coulda lived here way back then. Maybe that was like, my great great great granddad's tricycle. Or however many greats you got from two hundred years.

I toss away the butt and keep walking. She said there wasn't much left in the town to pick over, that people had been scavving here for years. She did too, on her way through the first time. I feel kinda like I'm following her footsteps. Not exactly blazing a trail but at least it'll lead me right to her. Then again, I could try my hand at this scavenging thing, maybe get some practise. There had to be _something _left here.

But it's way too dark to really see anything. I trip over cans and old wiring when I try to climb into one of the shelled-out houses. My Pip-Boy doesn't give off enough light for this and I decide to come back when it's daytime. I guess running around out here in the dark ain't the smartest way to learn my way around.

Over in the distance I can see a bunch of lights around a big metal fence or walls or something. That's gotta be Megaton, it's the right direction. But maybe it'd be better if I show up with something more than just the clothes on my back and the pack of smokes in my pocket. My original plan isn't gonna work out at all 'cause most of it's stuffed in a backpack under my bed in the Vault. _Ain't my bed anymore_, I remind myself with a grin.

So I gotta improvise, that's all. She told me they use bottle caps like money up here. That seems pretty stupid to me. How many bottles are lyin' around that everybody can just walk around with handfuls of caps? But, I gotta adapt. So my first stop is a Nuka-Cola machine I see next to some old cars and this metal tower or something that stands about a hundred feet high and oh crap, I'm looking up again and I'm about to hurl so I look at the ground real fast. There's a garbage can, I can probably find something in that. I kick it over and empty it on the ground. Some really old shit in here, I can't even tell what it is, but I find about fifteen or sixteen bottle caps. Seems like a good start. The vending machine's still lit up somehow but it looks like it's on its last legs. I get out my knife and pry open the front panel. I got pretty good at fishing bottles out of these things in the vault but I don't want the bottles right now, I wanna see everything that's in the storage unit. And I get pretty lucky. There's a pile of dusty old glass in there and maybe another twenty caps. I pick 'em out and add them to the rest in my pocket.

Still, I don't know how many caps I'm supposed to trade for stuff, maybe forty ain't much. And I can't just turn up at her doorstep empty-handed like some fuckin' charity case. So I'm looking around for more ideas when I see a light coming from one of the buildings that's not totally destroyed. Not much light, just a glow at one window. I check the time: almost midnight. Somebody lives there and they're probably asleep. That means they're gonna help out ol' Butch in his hour of need. Somebody with a house has gotta have a stash of caps, right?

I turn off my Pip-Boy light and start walking, looking for a back door or a window or a vent panel or something. I get all quiet-like when I get close to the house and around back is a door like the one on the front. I try it and it's locked, so I pick out a bobby pin from the junk in my pocket and get to work.

Not locked too good, I'm thinking, 'cause in about eight seconds I'm easing the door open and sticking my head inside. It really smells in here, like mold and wet socks. From what I can see it ain't much to look at. Floor's dirty, walls are dirty, all the shelves and chairs are dirty. There's piles of crap in the corners, paper and stuff. This place is such a dump I almost figure nobody lives here, but I can hear snoring from another room. So I slide the rest of the way inside and shut the door but don't latch it.

Caps... where does somebody keep caps in a place like this? I doubt they got a safe or anything fancy. You can't keep bottle caps in a wallet either. I look around shelves, poke around in a little closet, even look under the cushions on this really stinky couch. I can hear the snoring through a doorway and I have a quick look. Some blonde chick sleeping with her mouth wide open. I figure I'll check this room last, like mom always said there's no reason to tempt fate.

There's a little kitchen here with some pots and pans up on the counter and these weird boxes of food. They look old as hell, I hope I don't have to eat that stuff out here. Nah, a real town'll have real food. There's some crates in the corner and I shine my Pip-Boy light to see inside but it's just boxes of cleaner or something. Then I see an old coffee can up on a corner shelf and I kinda know just by looking at it that it's exactly what I need. I'm trying to be quiet but my boots are crunching on all the crap on these floors. I just wanna get out of here before Sleeping Beauty wakes up and turns out to have a gun bigger than my 10mm. I mean, not that I couldn't drop her if I had to.

I grab the can and hustle to the back door again, quiet as I can. She's really sawing logs in that room. I probably could've knocked over the can and not woken her up but I don't wanna push it right now. It's been two days since they kicked Doc's kid out and she's probably waiting up in Megaton. And being the goody two-shoes she is she's probably not gonna like it if I show up with blood on me. I mean, not that I care if she likes it or not. It's just, y'know, easier to play it safe.

The door shuts nice and quiet behind me and I fiddle with the lock until I figure it's set again. That chick'll never know I was here... until she finds her can gone, anyway, and I ain't gonna be in the area that much longer. We can get an early start tomorrow, go out and do whatever it is we're gonna be doing. Man, I can't wait.

So I'm walking back up the road to Megaton with my light back on, counting out the caps in the can. I stick them in my pants pockets in handfuls of twenty and pretty soon I got almost two hundred of them in total. That's gotta be enough to get some food and maybe a backpack, a bigger gun, maybe some shades 'cause I bet the sun is really goddamn bright out here. See? That's the Butch-man planning ahead. They said I'd never amount to anything but a damn barber, and look which one of us isn't rotting down in that hole anymore. I ain't even _seen_ the sun and I'm ready for it.

I stick the can under a bush ('cause how stupid would I be if I walked into town with a coffee can full of bottle caps? Might as well write "thief" on my forehead) and pretty soon I'm at the entrance. At least I think it's the entrance. There's so much crazy metal sticking all over the place it's hard to tell what's what. Then I almost crap my pants when this weird robot suddenly talks to me.

"Welcome... to... Megaton."

"Cripes, Sparky, I didn't even see you there."

"Friendliest town... around."

"Yeah, that's great. Listen, is this the front door? How do I get in?" I don't think this thing is much of a conversationalist, so I'm looking around for some kinda switch or latch as I ask the question.

"Thirsty, partner?"

"It's like you read my mind, rust bucket."

"Try Moriarty's. Coldest-"

"Love to, but you gotta _let me the fuck in_."

Somebody shouts from overhead.

"Hey! Little late for visiting!"

"Yeah, kinda," I shout back. "I'm meeting somebody who lives here. You gonna let me in or what?"

"Can the attitude and stand back. I'm opening the gates."

Then I get a real show. This screeching metal fan thing starts to spin and throw sparks everywhere, and I watch as these two big plates get pulled upward off the ground. _There's_ the door. They sure have this place locked down tight.

Whatever I thought a town would look like, it sure ain't this. It's like the place is built in a giant hole and all the roads slope down to the middle where a... giant fucking... bomb is? It can't be real. Or at least it can't be still working. Besides, there's some crazy old guy waving his arms next to it, yelling something about 'basking in the glow' even though it's pretty late. He looks like old Father Larsen from the Vault giving one of his really epic sermons on Sunday.

I take a minute to look around and get my bearings. There's some really freaky animal down the path (maybe I'll just go around that), a big sign that says 'Craterside Supply', a lot of lights strung from poles that make it look a little like Christmas, and another sign across the hole that says 'Moriarty's Saloon'. That robot said something about Moriarty's. And if there was one thing I needed right now it was a stiff scotch. And some directions to her place. This didn't look like a big town but I wasn't about to go up and down in the middle of the night, knocking on everybody's door until I found her. I'm starting to think it'll be fun to surprise her. She's gotta know I'd be out eventually but I can't wait to see the look on her face when I show up on her doorstep so soon.

Looks like this whole place is made of metal sheets, how weird is that? Seems pretty sturdy, though. I head up the ramps, looking down at the bomb the whole time, and wind up at this Moriarty's place. When I push the door open I holy _shit_, what the fuck _is _that thing?

I stare at it with one foot inside and one foot outside. It looks up at me real quick but keeps cleaning a glass. I keep staring at it. It looks at me again, just a glance, and it's weird but I think it's more afraid of me than I am of it. It's weird because I'm not the one whose skin is falling off and whose teeth are showing through his face. _Jesus._

"You want something, pal?" It actually speaks. Its voice sounds like a cheese grater on a leather couch but it can talk.

"Uh... yeah, I... sure?"

"How about you close that door and I get you a drink. Moriarty doesn't want any more flies in here."

So that's not Moriarty but I still don't know who or what it is. At least it isn't trying to eat me yet. I shut the door and find a stool at the counter, not too close to the thing but not so far away that it looks like I'm afraid of it.

"What'll it be?" It sets the glass down on the counter. I hope that isn't gonna be the glass I get.

"You uh... scotch?"

"You want the bottle or a glass?"

"... glass?"

"Four caps." It reaches below the counter and pulls out a dusty bottle. I fish in my pockets, wondering if I'm the only one seeing this. There's a couple other people around the room but nobody's paying the monster any attention. Maybe they're used to it, or maybe whatever it is isn't the only one out here in the Wastes.

I put the caps on the counter and it waits patiently until my hand's out of the way before reaching for them. I start to wonder if it's really an it or if it's a he. I mean, he isn't doing anything scary. And he obviously works here, so...

"Let me know if you want anything else."

"...thanks?" Why the fuck is everything coming out of my mouth a question? "So you uh, work here?" Man, what the hell. It sounds like I'm trying to ask him out. I just want some information but he's so freaky looking I can't get the words right. "I mean, you work here. I'm looking for this girl, see, and-"

He jerks his head toward a staircase. "Nova's with someone. Should be down soon."

"Her name ain't Nova. She lives here in town, got a Pip-Boy like this." I hold up my own. "You know where I can find her?" I guess this guy's not so bad. Seems pretty harmless even though he looks like one of my mom's meatloafs.

I think he might be trying to smile, or he might be trying to hide a smile. Hard to tell. "You mean the Vault kid, the Lone Wanderer."

I bust up laughing."The _what?_"

But the meatloaf guy doesn't seem to think it's funny. His eyebrows pull together and ahhh fuck, he's oozing a little. "Three Dog calls her that. She does a lot of good work out here. But since you've been stuck in that Vault all your life, smoothskin, you wouldn't know anything about that. Here." He reaches out and flips on a radio.

"-_and that's why you never, ever stick your tongue in those things, children. Now, I got some news and I know you've all been dyin' to hear more about our golden gal from the Vault. Well, looks like you can't go home again. The Lone Wanderer was spotted leaving her old stompin' grounds looking less than thrilled. Now I don't know what happened down there but somehow I doubt it was a big ol' family reunion. Pass the potato salad, I got some more music to get you kids through another hard day's struggle to survive."_

He turns the volume down low as some old song starts to play. I can't believe what I'm hearing. Was that Dog guy seriously talking about Doc's kid? Lab rat? That twerp who used to cry if she even _saw_ somebody fighting? He had to be.

"Okay, Lone Wanderer, whatever. You know where her house is?"

The meatloaf guy glances at a closed door behind him, he looks like he's thinking. "Who wants to know?"

"I'm a friend of hers from the Vault. See?" I raise my wrist again to show off the Pip-Boy.

"She never mentioned any friends from the Vault."

"Sure, she must've. I'm Butch."

"I'm Gob, nice to meet you. But she never mentioned any Butch."

Like hell she didn't. If it was me out here I'da said something about _her._ Probably this guy's brain is full of holes. "Listen, I just need to know where she lives so I can go find her, okay?"

Meatloaf guy - Gob - sighs and the sound is all gooey. Man, that's gross. "All right. Not like you can cause her any trouble in the middle of Megaton. She's the first house on the right, next to the gates, just go back up the ramp. But I haven't seen her lately."

"Well that geek doesn't drink so I ain't surprised." I finish off the scotch and get up, relieved to be getting out of this place. I just can't look at Gob's face anymore. He's an okay guy but man, I got limits, you know?

The air's gettin' a little colder outside and I figure it'll be nice to get into her house and crash on a couch or something. Boy, is she gonna be happy to see me. And am I gonna be happy to get the taste of this shitty scotch outta my mouth. Hope she's got a spare toothbrush.

Figures she lives in the first place I passed on my way in. When I'm standing in front of her door I wonder what I should say when she opens it. _Hey twerp, didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, didja? _Or maybe _Long time no see, poindexter_. Or maybe I'll just fix up my hair, light a cigarette and stand here all casual. I'm pretty sure she likes the casual thing. I think I used to catch her looking at me when she thought I wasn't paying attention. So I light one up, grin, reach out and knock on her door.

Huh. Probably sleeping. I mean, it is pretty late. Gotta give her time to get outta bed and get to the door. Maybe she has to put on some clothes first. Maybe she sleeps buck naked. Maybe she's like, cast off the trappings of Vault civilization and she's gonna come to the door wearing nothing but that big smile of hers and -

Jeez, it's taking a long time. I knock again. Still nothing. I stick my ear against the door and I can't hear a damn thing, it's totally silent in there. But there's a little window on the door and I can see a light kinda flickering in there. Maybe she's a really deep naked sleeper.

I try the door and it's locked. For a few seconds I just stand there, not liking the feeling in the pit of my stomach. She's gotta be here. I knock again real loud; if she's in there she _has _to hear that. But there's nothing from inside. Not a damn thing.

I'm gettin' a little colder now and I zip my jacket up all the way. Fine. She's probably inside, sound asleep. I bet she's exhausted after all that shit Amata put her through. Probably cried herself to sleep.

Well hell. Now I want to go back and pop Amata right in the kisser and break my not-hitting-girls-anymore streak.

Cripes, DeLoria, just pick the lock and get inside. You can wake her up with a wedgie or something. I dig out the same bobby pin I used earlier 'cause it feels kinda lucky now. But the lock on her door is a hell of a lot harder than that other place. I really have to be careful 'cause it feels like it might snap the pin any second if I don't jiggle it _just right_...

"The fuck you think you're doin', kid?"

"Oh _shit!_" The pin snaps and goes spinning off into the night, my cigarette falls outta my mouth, and now I'm face to face with the business end of one serious rifle.

"Stand up, nice 'n easy. That's it." This leathery old guy wearing armour and chewing on a cigar is holding a gun to my face. Just great. Only my second act of delinquency for the night and already I got caught. I raise my hands slowly.

"Hey, pal, relax. I know the girl who lives here, all right? We're old friends from way back."

"Yeeeah. I guess that's why you're breakin' into her house when she ain't home." This guy looks like one mean son of a bitch, he's got squinty eyes and a shaved head. "You wanna try out another one?"

"Seriously, look." I turn my wrist so he can see the Pip-Boy and I wonder if I should just run around with my arm over my head so everybody will stop giving me so much hassle. "I'm from Vault 101. I just got out. I'm supposed to meet up with her."

"Christ, you Vault assholes are multiplyin'. Hate to burst your bubble, kid, but she ain't here." The guy takes the rifle out of my face and slings it across his back but he looks ready to pull it right out again. "So what the fuck are you _really_ doin' here?"

"I told you, I'm supposed to meet her. I just got a little held up is all. And whaddya mean she isn't here?"

"Like I said, retard. She. Ain't. Here." He spits on the ground. "They don't grow 'em too smart down there, do they?"

"Up yours, buddy." Fuck. She really wasn't here. "Did she say where she went?"

"Oh suuure, she invited me over for tea and fuckin' biscuits and we went over her travel plans. No, she didn't tell me where she fuckin' went. That hoity toity little bitch don't have time for ol' Jericho." He chuckles and the sound is kind of nasty.

I want to tell him to watch his goddamn mouth but his hand is pretty close to his rifle and he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd lose too much sleep if he offed me. "Fine, whatever. If you're done snoopin' around I'm gonna continue to let myself in and wait for her to come back."

"Suit y'self, kid. Could be weeks, could be never. She don't follow a fuckin' schedule. But you enjoy your stay. And uh, mind your way in. That first step's a real killer." The old guy grins, flicks cigar ash on the ground and walks away. The hell did he mean by that? I watch him until I see him disappear inside his house, which of course has to be right next door to this one. She sure knows how to pick her real estate.

"Jesus." I breathe out real slow. "This place is really messed up. Meatloafs tending bar, homicidal maniacs on security, what next?" I fish another bobby pin out and get to work. It takes me a few minutes but I finally get the lock jimmied. And when I step inside the house the flickering light turns toward me.

"I _dare_ say..."

"Oh crap-" is all I got time to say before I dive toward a Mr. Handy unit, sidestepping the flamer arm to get to its access panel. I swear to god this is the fastest shutdown I ever did, and I had lots of practise with old Andy back in the vault. Damned if I ever let that robot see me sneaking around at night and damned if he ever got close enough to me for an examination.

The Mr. Handy flops to the ground with kind of a squawk and I swear it sounds pissed off. But it doesn't move again which means my heart can start beating now.

"Man, what the _hell?_ Meatloaf guy, maniac guy, and now a goddamn guard robot?!" My guess is she loves this place. She always liked really weird stuff, the weirder the better. She was probably even friends with that stringy rotting bartender.

But whatever. I'm inside now, that's what matters. And I have to finally admit to myself that she ain't home. I walk around and look at everything. It's dark but there's so many holes in the walls that I can see from the outside lights. It doesn't smell bad in here like that other lady's house, just dusty and old.

There's a little kitchen with some real old food on the shelves, some kinda work bench piled up with crud, an old couch, and I ain't surprised to see a few shelves crammed with old books. I head up the creaky metal stairs and find a jukebox out on a walkway. Around the corner is a tiny bedroom with a desk and an old filing cabinet. The place is pretty tidy even with all the junk she keeps.

"Well," I say out loud, "beats that other dump." Great. Now I'm talking to myself. And it's really hitting me now, that she's not here.

I don't get it. Why would she leave? It's only been two days, she must've hightailed it outta here right after getting kicked out of the vault. Doesn't she know me better than that? She didn't think I was stuck down there forever, did she?

Well, maybe she did. It's not like I escaped after that first time. But I had my mom to take care of, she'd know that. She has to know that.

I just... I dunno.

Now I'm real tired all of a sudden. I was so excited and this is such a goddamn letdown. I should go to bed and figure out my next step tomorrow morning. Somebody's gotta know where she went. I can go to that Craterside place and pick up new supplies. If she isn't back tomorrow I can just get some directions and go out and find her. Hey, yeah. That'd be perfect! I track her down by myself, do a little solo travelling, show her I really know my stuff. And wherever she is she could probably use my help. I'm pretty good with just about everything. This is gonna be so awesome.

I guess it ain't so bad, really, her not bein' here. So I kick off my boots and strip down to my undies and climb into her bed. Only big enough for one person. I guess she's not seeing anybody out here. Nah, she wouldn't do that. She's got it bad for me. I can tell these things.

Tomorrow's gonna rock.


End file.
